


Echoes of Your Silence

by LLewtwo, Popjeckdoom



Series: Echoes And Sources [1]
Category: Rurouni Kenshin, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Blanket Permission, Canon-Typical Violence, Class 1-A Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Don't Have to Know Canon, Eventual Slow Burn, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Illustrated, Immortal Himura Kenshin - Freeform, It might help tho, Kenshin gets stabbed a lot, M/M, Mineta/the sweet release of my fist to his face, Multi, Other, Shinsou Hitoshi Replaces Mineta Minoru, You don't need to know who Kenshin is, and one time he's even not drunk!!, dont worry, it's no biggy, not crack, very slow burn, we promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2019-11-13 06:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18026159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLewtwo/pseuds/LLewtwo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popjeckdoom/pseuds/Popjeckdoom
Summary: At 16, Kenshin lost his wife.At 18, he won a war.At 31, he lost his new life to a fire.And at 437, Kenshin has lived through several more wars, become an English teacher, realized he won't actually live forever, and finally convinced the government he's still alive.Well, among other things, but that's what stands out to him.(You do not need knowledge of Rouroni Kenshin to understand what's going on, we diverge from RK cannon very quickly. And no, this is not crack.)





	1. The Stages of Grief - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic (LLewtwo) that I am writing with Popjeckdoom! Kenshin was one of my first Fandoms (although years ago) and BNHA is my new obsession, lol. So why not combine the two! We divert from Kenshin canon pretty quickly, but we will try not to get too far from the main storyline of BNHA without re-hashing things already covered. I really have no idea what I'm doing with tags, so I guessed. I will beg Popjeckdoom to fix it as we go!
> 
> Please keep in mind I'm new to this. Comments are appreciated :)
> 
> Gaikoku hito - Foreigner  
> More information on honorifics: https://www.japanpowered.com/japan-culture/chan-kun-senpai-japanese-honorifics

**Musutafu, Tokyo Prefecture, Japan, Fall 1881.**

 

**_-Denial-_ **

 

The bite of fall was settling into the air.  Kenshin ached with every movement; his long healed injuries a reminder and the new ones still stinging. During the Bakumatsu, injuries like this would be left to him to fix. In war, the hitokiri were expected to take care of themselves. Well, perhaps Katsura-san would have reminded him, but 13 years ago, naught but his commanding officers would dare approach the Hitokiri Battousai. How different he was now, to the man he was then. A boy really. A stupid boy that had leapt into a war he did not understand; eager to kill for the revolution, excited to prove his worth.  

 

He had nearly lost himself in those days. Not to other Hitokiri blades as much as the blood on his hands and the taste of it with every meal.  He lowered his eyes to the dusty road. It had taken the loss of Tomoe, his late wife, to find himself again. The scar on his face stung at the reminder. It was because of Tomoe that he was even alive today. Had she not begged him to move on, to leave the life of the manslayer, he would have fallen on his sword the minute Katsura-san released him from service. It was because of her that he had traded his katana for the back-bladed sword, the Sakabatou he wielded now, and made himself a promise.

 

Today, thirteen years later, it was because of a different woman he kept it. Had Kaoru-dono not confronted him that day, yelling about manslayers and the sword ban, he would still be wandering. He smiled at the memory. She had become no less...straightforward in the time he knew her. Hopefully she wasn’t trying to cook tonight. She had become no better at that either. Yahiko, now nearly the age Kenshin had been when he went to war, made sure to tease her for it every day.

 

He could tell the sun would still be up by the time he got back to town, but nightfall would soon follow.  The breeze picked up a bit, ruffling his hair and sending a shiver down his spine as he walked. ‘ _This one wonders if he will be in time to join everyone for the celebration of the birth of Dr. Gensai….and Hot Pot.’_ He picked up his pace a bit, re-settling his sword and wincing slightly as the wound on his arm pulled against the bandaging. This fight had ended much better than he had initially suspected; one of them was almost as fast as he was.  He could have sworn that last strike...but no matter, the wound was not as bad as he had thought, and after only a short breather he was able to bandage himself up and head back toward home. At least he had found the criminal group before they could set their plans in motion.  Now they would face justice, and Kaoru-dono would not need to know that they had threatened to use her against him…..again. He paused in his stride as he realized he had forgotten to get the Sake he had originally been sent for, then stepped forward again with resignation.

 

The wind blew once more as the first rooftops came into view, bringing with it the acrid smell of smoke.  It seemed too early yet in the season to need to heat buildings. He squinted into the setting sun, attempting to pinpoint the source of the smell. In the distance, a pillar of blackness rose up against the sky. It was too dark to be simple cooking fire, and too thick to be… his eyes widened. A house fire. He breaks into a run, glad now he had no sake bottles to weigh him down. As he comes into the main street of the town, he steps into chaos. People run to and fro with buckets, several men are shouting conflicting instructions. He runs up to a larger group at the bank of the stream and a filled bucket is thrust into his hands.  He meets eyes briefly with the manager of the Akabeko, Tae-dono.

 

“Himura-sama?”  She looks startled, her face like she’s seen a ghost.  “You...you made it out of the fire?”

 

“Made it out?” he replies in confusion. She nods and looks in the direction of the dojo. His head turns to follow the direction of her gaze.

 

“The fire started there...I haven’t seen anyone come out--” but Kenshin is already running, bucket forgotten as it falls to the ground at Tae’s feet.

 

_‘Kaoru!!’_ His breath catches in his side as he pushes himself faster, dodging those in his way with single-minded focus as he races across the bridge and toward the dojo.  His mind no longer registers his injuries from earlier as the dojo comes into view; the heat that radiates into the darkening sky and smoke in the air makes him stumble reluctantly to a stop in the courtyard.   The main building is lost to flames, but the villagers attempt to keep it from spreading further.

 

Later he might notice the villagers, some trying to help, and their looks of sympathy.

Later he might notice the that someone else recognized him; the accusations that fall from their lips.

 

Later he might notice many things.

 

But for now, he falls to his knees, and weeps.

  
\--

 

It is deep into the night when the last bucket of water is put over the still steaming and smoking wood. Sometime during the frantic struggle against the flames he had been jarred from his misery and handed a bucket. He joined those fighting the fire; ignored the sting of smoke and sweat in his reopened wounds and refused to take shifts like the others. When the last spark was out, stumbling forward he was the first to begin trying to remove collapsed lumber to get inside. It burned his hands, the wood still hot to the touch, and others began to attempt to pull him away.

 

“Rouroni-san!” A man he didn’t know tugged at his yukata. “You are just hurting yourself!”

 

“I have to look! They could--” More arms wrap around him. “You have to let me--”

 

“Rouroni-san. You have to calm down.” The man pushed him down to the ground and accepted medical supplies from a boy who quickly ran off to get more. He began cleaning the burns on Kenshin’s hands. “You will be no good to anyone unless to help yourself first.”

 

“I can’t stop looking now! The longer we wait--” Kenshin attempted to stand again, but the man was stronger than a tired and wounded samurai. He continued to treat Kenshin’s hands.

 

“We cannot do anything until the wood cools,” the man said firmly, his face momentarily softening, “I’m sorry, Rouroni-san, but they are likely gone.”

 

“I--I can’t accept that.” _Not Again!!_ his mind screamed at him, _Yahiko. Gensai. Ayame and Suzume-chan._ Kenshin chokes on tears, his voice already rough from smoke and emotion, his mind focusing only on the greater injuries to his heart.

 

_Kaoru._

 

“I was--I was going to propose.”

 

\---

 

The next day, he joins the others in sifting through the ashes.  Those injured while the fire was fought have already been sent to the doctor at the next town over.  Some try to reassure him they will try to find out what happened, and help re-build. Numb from lack of sleep, emotional turmoil and exhaustion, Kenshin can only stare in sorrow as a few small bodies are found.   _‘Kaoru must have been trying to protect the little ones.’_

 

He doesnt wait to find the others, gathering his remaining things and the smell of smoke still on his clothes, a rouroni looks back at Musutafu for what he thinks is the last time, and begins his wandering again.

  


\---

 

**_Kyoto, Japan,  Late Evening, Summer 1891_ **

**_-Anger/Depression-_ **

 

“Who is that?”

 

He could hear the whispers behind him, but he tried his best to ignore them as well as the accusatory inner monologue that was his constant companion.  He lowered his bleary eyes to the bar and refilled his sake, also ignoring the side eye the barman was beginning to give him.

 

“I don’t know, really,” another voice responded. This one Kenshin had heard before; he frequented this bar almost as much as Kenshin did. “He’s in here so often I’m beginning to think he’s glued to that seat.”

 

“So old fashioned”, the other responded. “And that hair...I haven’t seen anyone wearing that style around here-I’m sure father could say for sure, but not since the Bakumatsu, at least. Not since that hitokiri guy started wearing it everywhere.”  Kenshin could practically hear the suspicion coloring the man’s voice.

 

“Oh, that guy’s long dead,” The deeper voice scoffed as Kenshin refilled his glass again. “The government isn’t going to let a manslayer walk around. That’s just common sense. Especially not after all those other guys--I hear one of them lit a dojo on fire, burning everyone alive.”

 

_‘You should have been there.’_

 

“Of course not,” said a higher pitched voice, perhaps the first one that had asked who he was, “they would never have allowed him to go free after that--if they caught him.”

 

Kenshin’s jaw tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing and his thoughts at their words  unpleasantly bringing him out of his self imposed stupor. He didn’t light the fire. ‘ _Still your fault still your fault.’_ He may not have gotten to them in time, but _he did not light it_ . _He did not._

 

_‘You might as well have.’_

 

“You’re all paranoid.” A round of laughter. “If you’re so sure the guy’s a manslayer just walk up and ask--not like he can do anything when he’s that drunk.”

 

_‘I’ll show you drunk, kid,’_ a dark voice in the back of his head responded silently. Kenshin attempted to shake his growing anger off. That kind of thinking may have gotten him through the Bakumatsu, but this was not a war. And he was not that man any longer.   _He was not._ Even if he was itching again for a fight. _It should at least mean something_. He could hear the scraping of chairs as some of them moved behind him.  He glanced at his cup and the bottle - out of sake.

 

“Hey, red!” The man with the higher voice said, nearly on his back he was so close. “You trying to be a manslayer?”

 

“Go away,” Kenshin growled flatly, reigning in his temper--which was notoriously short when he was drunk. The men behind him laughed and ‘ooh-ed’ sarcastically, and he felt a shove at his shoulder.

 

He could feel the cockyness in the kids voice, with his friends egging him on, “You didn’t answer me.  Why are you dressed like that and who do you think you are, Gaikoku hito? This is our town and you can’t just ignore our questions.”

 

_‘You presume much about me and my origins, boy. It was my town before it was yours, and here they feared me.’_ Outwardly, Kenshin did nothing but stand slowly and push his money over the bar. He was done here.  He tried not to sway as a wave of all day drinking hit his knees. The tense bartender moved no closer to the coins, somewhat warily eyeing both parties and glancing at the door. Kenshin turned slowly, and got ready to leave.

 

“Please, move,” he said shortly. The young men jeered. What he wouldn’t give to smack them like unruly children.

 

“Answer the question,” the boy demanded as he shoved Kenshin back against the bar. His sakabatou hit the wood, drawing their attention to its location on his hip. The idiot boy’s mouth opened to spew some more useless drivel. Kenshin’s drunken mind did nothing to stop him as his anger flared, and he elbowed the kid in the face, knocking him back into his friends. They pushed him back up, each reaching for a knife or holding up their fists. Kenshin’s hand slipped to his sword’s hilt.  He barely registered the squeak of the barkeep as he ran past him and out the door.

 

“That’s it!  You’ll pay for that!” The idiot he’d punched moved at him first, knife in hand and blood dripping from his nose. Kenshin, slightly sobered up with adrenaline, smacked him easily to the side with the hilt of his partially drawn sword. As the first stumbled, the next moved in. He was taller than the first boy and while Kenshin’s impaired reaction time allowed him to partially deflect the first blow, it grazed his side and he grunted, kicking him back to draw his sword. In the following brawl, Kenshin stopped bothering to keep track of who was who and merely kept them back to the best of his shaking, drunk ability, backing towards the door.

 

It wasn’t until he made it outside, two of the four young men knocked to the ground before the door of the bar, that one of the kids got the bright idea to throw his knife at the same time as his friend kicked at him from the other side.  The knife hit him in the gut with surprising, and likely serendipitous, accuracy. He stumbled back, hand at the hilt of the blade in his side, when they heard the whistles of the police and the galloping of their horses.

 

“Police!” Knife boy hissed. The two of them ran, the others stumbling not far behind, out of the bar into the night. Kenshin, the pain registering with delay, and already having trouble breathing properly, stumbled into the nearest alley. The police swarmed the front of the bar, a few stomping inside to look for the brawlers as he stepped out of sight, turning the corner in the alleyway behind another building. Based on the shouts from farther down the street behind him, the boys had been caught. Kenshin chuckled a little at their misfortune, and coughed wetly, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He was beginning to pass out; the tell-tale blackness in the corners of his vision, the fog over his mind. Such an end. Kaoru would be disappointed in him, he hadn’t even been able to discover who set the fire.  But part of him rejoiced - at least now he could see them again and beg their forgiveness.

 

He stumbled further into the alley, pressing against the wall as his knees trembled and he began to lose track of time. Blood flowed too quickly from his wound--the knife had ripped something, he was sure.

 

The foggy shape of a darkly dressed man with odd yellow eye glasses leaned over him as he struggled against unconsciousness, starting to go numb, and Kenshin briefly hoped it wasn’t an officer. He could feel an arm pull him up and an odd swooping sensation before he surrendered to the darkness.

  



	2. The Stages of Grief Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin faces the aftermath of the bar fight, and continues to come to terms with his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LLewtwo here - This was officially the first chapter that Popjeckdoom and I had arguments about :D. Still not entirely happy with the flow of this chapter, but after a re-write from both of us it turned out better the second time. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and wonderful comments!! We are very glad that this has gone over so well thus far!
> 
> And -we know it's early, but we couldn't wait anymore! It is a little shorter than the first one, but it's somewhat a transitional chapter :) Don't worry! We are getting to more crossover-ness soon!
> 
> Hopefully you guys can see the art from Popjeckdoom? Enjoy!

**_Kyoto, Japan,  Mid-morning, Summer 1891_ **

 

**_-Reflection/Guilt-_ **

 

When Kenshin wakes up, his head is throbbing. The mid-morning light stings his eyes and he aches all over. Rocks or perhaps tile digs into his back, and his face ( _ curse his pale skin) _  is already slightly sunburned. Overall, he is rather uncomfortable. It is only after he opens his eyes again, squinting, that he realizes he had managed to get himself inside someone’s walled garden somehow, and cover himself in blood. He sits up, pushing himself against the wall.   _ How did this one get here?? _   His memories were foggy, unclear. There must have been a fight, or he wouldn’t be so sore.

 

His clothes are crusty with blood but he feels very little on his skin.  Was it his blood? If not, what did he do? He panics momentarily until noticing someone had removed his yukata and placed it beneath his head. His side aches with a vengeance. One of those kids had thrown a knife, but was that last night or another? He placed his hand over the odd bandage on his side and shifted closer to the wall, attempting to hide from the sun. 

 

He looked down to examine his side, where the bandage stayed in place without a wrap. ‘ _ What is this thing?’ _ He picked at the edge, unsure if it is just stuck to him by blood or something else. He can’t help but think he should hurt more.  He seemed to remember having trouble breathing before, but was doing fine now. ‘ _ Was the wound from this last fight? Or a different one?’ _  There had been many in recent months.

 

He rests against the wall for a short while, closing his violet eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing headache. Now that he is thinking more clearly, Kenshin remembers the young idiot who had gotten him in the side with a lucky throw. He must have been practically lost to drink if he hadn’t knocked the small blade aside. How had he missed the other kid throwing a knife??  He must have been very far gone indeed, to miss something so obvious.

 

Rubbing his hand over the odd bandage, Kenshin looks around, taking stock of his surroundings.  He can feel the summer heat reflecting off the top of the wall, and is glad for his small sliver of shade.  Beside his makeshift shirt/pillow, there are some bits of paper and bloody cloth, the knife, his sakabatou, and a couple of odd, brightly colored bags.  He reaches over to examine one of the latter, taking the smoothly textured package into his hands. 

 

He reads the odd writing on the bag with surprise, “Banilla Protein Pouch?” He feels the ‘pouch’ in his hands. What material was this? It was so smooth...and yellow.  Some odd fruit and a flower were pictured on the front as if painted  _ in _ the paper, but this is the oddest paper he’s ever seen. He pulls at the white top, unsure how it remains closed and yet flexible, and starts as it pops open. What now? Well, based on the fruit on the packaging, it was meant to be eaten, so - Kenshin puts the white nozzle to his lips and squeezes out some of its contents. 

 

Eigqhaelkj...sweet. He puts the cap back on the odd pouch, and continues his inventory. 

 

The second pouch was blue, and said “Fuji Spring” in stylized Japanese on the front with a picture of a mountain along with some additional writing in English that he couldn’t read.  After some trial and error he discovered the top of this one  _ turned.  _  Twisting it off, the water sloshed a bit over his hands, and he realized immediately how thirsty he was. He eagerly emptied the odd waterskin, sighing a bit when no more water would come from the flattened packaging. 

 

He glanced over the bandages again. For a stab wound, there was remarkably little pain in that area. Pulling the edge of the bloody bandage back carefully, he could see the rough edge of a wound well on it’s way to healing, with only minor bruising. ‘ _ How long had this one been unconscious?’  _ The healing wound appeared to be at least a couple of weeks old, rather than the few hours he had originally assumed. Had been unconscious in this garden for so long?  _ ‘Oro?!’  _ Wouldn’t he be dead? A mostly healed wound, but a bloody bandage. That along with his clothes from the bar fight...it is turning into a very odd day.  

 

As disgustingly sweet as it is, he decides that the pouch goo is perhaps better than nothing...

 

**\---**

 

It is nightfall when he wakes again.  Aside from what feels like a minor sunburn and the usual aches and pains he would expect after a day of sleeping on the ground, he feels no worse for wear, although very thirsty.  His mouth tastes awful and he immediately decides to never again eat any strange sweet - whatever that was. 

Gathering up things, he eyes the wall behind him.  _ How did this one get in here? _  Backing up a bit from the wall, he gets a running start and manages to clear it with one step to the top, dropping back to the ground outside in a crouch. His knees pop, his side twinges slightly, and he groans as he straightens up. Perhaps he should have looked for a gate.

 

**\---**

 

He arrives at the Onsen well past midnight.  After sneaking around the back since he doesn't think he can explain his bloody appearance, he finds his things still in the room he has been renting.  Everyone is asleep at this hour, and leaving the weapons and pouches, he gathers a change of clothes and heads to the baths. Kenshin places his existing clothes to soak in a bucket once he has undressed, and he prepares to scrub the last few days off of himself.  Pulling the sticky bandage away from his skin he examines his side -

 

To find nothing but a new looking scar where before there was a still healing wound.

  
  


As his mind slowly restarts, he tries to understand what is going on.  

  
  


He was in a fight.  

 

_ Yes, obviously.  Blood all over his clothes, and the knife that had been thrown at him now sitting in his room _ . 

 

He remembers the drinking, he remembers the fight. He remembers too much blood...the alley?  A policeman?  _ No, it couldn’t have been a policeman or he would be in jail _ .  But someone, someone had come up to him while he had been thinking of  _ home _ .

 

_ Home. _  He must have been dying.  But then  _ Why?  _  His face twisted briefly in pain and anger as his fingers traced the new scar.  Was it that man? The sweet goo? Why is this happening to him? Why is he not allowed the chance to make amends?

 

Perhaps he doesn’t deserve a chance to do so.

  
  


He exhales, taking a cloth and another bucket along with some soap, he quickly lathers up, taking out his frustration on his skin.  He rinses a few times, and washes his vibrant red hair. When finally clean and his mind has stopped going in circles, he steps over and slides into the hot pool to soak and regain his composure.

 

Perhaps he needs to find another way.  So he can deserve the chance to make up for what he has done.  For what he failed to do. She….they would not want him to give up on his vow to make up for the death he has caused.  

 

Pushing it from his mind he soaks for a while longer, and after going inside, dresses in clean clothes.  He is quickly growing tired again. It seems like all he has done the last day is sleep, but he knows he can not return to his futon yet.  He turns to the chore that is trying to salvage what is left of what he was wearing before. ‘ _ Blood is always awful to get out of clothing!’.   _

 

**\---**

 

“Are you sure you do not wish to stay longer, Himura-san?” the owner of the inn asks as Kenshin pays for the room and some provisions to take with him. “I know you have only been in town a few weeks, but we welcome you to stay as long as you would like.  My family and I are already in your debt for your assistance last week.”

 

“Thank you, but I need to continue on my way. This one appreciates your kindness, Hanata-san.”

 

Hanata was quiet as he watched Kenshin gather his things. After a few moments of silence, he said, “You seemed troubled, when you came here.” Kenshin turned to him, confused. “I know it is not my place, Himura-san, but if you think you need to move on...perhaps the temple outside of town can help you.” Hanata finished.

 

“...perhaps. This one will wander for a little bit longer, but perhaps one day.” With a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Kenshin bows farewell, and then steps back out into the city.  

 

**\---**

 

**_Unknown Mountain, Japan,  Fall 1915_ **

 

**\- Bargaining/Depression-**

 

He can still remember the terrible joy of battle.  He can remember his wife’s eyes as she begged him to give up the fighting.  He can remember how lost he was, how he couldn’t prevent his sword from sliding through her when she stepped in front of the blade. 

 

He remembers his devastation years later in the heat from a fire, a love and life that he had thought he might finally be worthy of suddenly lost to him.  

 

He can still remember the feeling of helplessness and the need to move on, to be better, to be there to save them when it was impossible to change time.

 

He can remember so many days of wandering, so many suspicious glances, so many nights lost in drink.  

 

He can remember the movements of his sword as part of himself, the silence after a battle, the taste of blood in his mouth regardless of what he ate.

 

He can also remember those he has been able to help.

 

He can remember too much.  When will the good ever balance the bad?

  
  


Kenshin exhales mist into the chilly air. Wraps himself tighter in his coat, adjusts his burden, and continues up the mountain.

 

He doesn’t think he has been here before.  This place does not feel heavy with memory.  At least not his memory; just the weight of the age of nature around him and the care of whoever built the shrine he heard was above. 

 

His legs begin to ache with the effort of the climb.  As he hikes, the sun slowly begins to rise above the trees, the air warming slightly around him and the sounds of a few small animals and birds greeting the morning light.  Starting up the mountain before dawn was probably not wise, but it seems better than this climb in the heat of the day. 

 

Soon his mind is calm.  It is just the steps he takes, the breath in his chest, the sound of the waking forest around him.  Eventually he looks up as the path evens out, and the shrine is there before him, a young man - probably a monk, standing before the main doors.  Kenshin lowers the bag of rice from his shoulder, and walks up to the monk at the door. 

 

The monk smiles kindly, and bows in welcome. “Good morning, wanderer.  You may call me Saito.”

 

Kenshin clears his throat, warming his unused voice, and hoping that things will go well.  “I am Himura Kenshin.” He bows, and the offers the bag of rice. “Please. Saito-sama, I would like to offer this, and perhaps...clear my mind.  This unworthy one would be happy to serve however you may have need.”

 

Saito smiled again, and simply gestures him forward and opens the door.  As Kenshin steps inside, he looks around at the simple yet elegant woodwork, and then follows the now silent Saito into the shrine.  Saito walks through part of the building, and out another door. They walk across a small dirt court, and into another, smaller building in the treeline.  Sliding back one of the doors in the inner hallway, Saito leads him inside. “You can stay here for as long as you have need. It would be appreciated if you can assist in the daily chores, Kenshin-kun, but we will not force you unwillingly.  This is a place of peace.” He glances at the sword at Kenshin’s hip, “Perhaps we can find you a stand for that, for it should not be needed.” His eyes light up with another brief smile toward Kenshin. “The rice however I will take - you can follow your nose whenever you are ready to eat.”

 

Somewhat startled at so kind and unquestioning a reception, Kenshin simply hands him the bag of rice with a bow, and steps back as the monk exits the room, leaving Kenshin to his thoughts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter, I managed to prevent Lew from hand-holding too much ;b. Yes, I am throwing all the shade. And after she was so nice, too. 
> 
> Check out the first chapter, I added art!


	3. The Stages of Grief -Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin stops focusing as much on the past, and begins to realize that time goes on, and his life needs to continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone LLewtwo here! Thank you so so much all for the kudos and the comments!! They mean a lot to us, and we always love to hear what you think, and it really helps to be able to improve our writing and story for future chapters. 
> 
> We are almost to the end of the pre-BNHA timeline story (another 2 to 4 chapters at most) and then we will be getting more into the BNHA crossover :)
> 
> Please let us know what you think!! 
> 
> Art this chapter by Popjeckdoom!

**Unknown Mountain, Japan,  Spring 1929**

**-Resignation/Acceptance-**

 

Kenshin shifted his hands on the axe, and continued cutting wood for the cooking fires. It had always easier to think clearly while his hands were busy. Today, he thought of the Englishman that had come to stay for a while.  He was not sure why the man was staying so long, but it was notable partially because it was uncommon. English was difficult, but Green-san was very patient in teaching, and his drawings of the shrine and surroundings were well done.  He had even taken to painting with ink surprisingly well. Kenshin did not think he would ever be good at English, but perhaps some day he could read the writing on the strange pouch he still kept hidden with his few belongings in his room.   

 

Life here was simple, and he was getting slowly better at keeping his mind out of memory and in the present.  It took little to no effort to take joy in the nature surrounding them. Saito-sama had been very helpful, and although the grounds were somewhat large, there were only 4 others living here at the moment, 5 if you counted the visiting Englishman.  Kenshin spent most of his time doing chores like chopping wood, and helping in the gardens. He still practiced his forms daily, and worked to be fit. He volunteered when the surrounding villages needed help with things like harvesting or guarding something.  He had even found a missing child once, a free spirit of a boy was off on some adventure and lost himself in the wood. Reminded him a bit of himself, once upon a time.

 

Recently he had added teaching Japanese to Green-san and attempting to learn English.  It still seemed very unnatural to speak that way, but hopefully his skills were improving.  It could only help to know English as a second language - Japan was no longer so alone in this world.  

 

There had been another war a few years ago. They had called it a war to end all wars; although Kenshin was skeptical that men would give up fighting simply because the last time ended badly. He had considered going to join the fight before it had ended.  Something he was good at, or at least had been, but it was unlikely to help balance the scales of his life. Yesterday Green-san had watched him practice his forms.  Perhaps Kenshin could convince him to spar, since Green said he had been a soldier of some type during the conflict.  It would be good to practice against something new.

 

Japan was changing yet again, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the changes.  Things had been so simple once, but now each time he stepped into town it seems like something else was different.  Perhaps that is just the result of isolation, but it seems better to isolate himself from others, than to try to find another life that he doesn’t deserve.  It is better to stay out of the way and just help in the little things.

 

The arguments circulate through his brain on a well worn path, and he almost believes them.

 

Kenshin sets the axe aside against the wall and begins carrying wood to the kitchen pile, methodically stacking it for later use.  Once he was done with this, Green-san wanted to work on perfecting his Japanese. He continues collecting the split wood methodically, back and forth to the pile.   As he brings the last of it over to the stack beside the wall, Saito-sama, now somewhat older but still as thin as when they had met, steps out of the doorway nearby with a smile.  “Good Morning Kenshin-san. Lunch will be ready shortly, if you would like to tell Green-san, I will go let the others know it is ready to eat whenever they are done.”

 

“Thank you,” Kenshin smiled, “This one will clean up and let him know the meal is ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Unknown Mountain, Japan, Spring 1930**

 

Kenshin watched Henry Green paint the stream nearby with a steady hand on the small canvas.  He grinned a little as the man half turned to him with his brown eyes smiling and messy brown hair - without his accent he looked more Japanese than Kenshin ever would: red hair had done him no favors except with foreigners.  “Well what do you think?” Green asked as he dabbed it a bit more with his brush, “I think I might keep this one for myself.”

 

Kenshin shifted his attention from the man's face and back to the painting. “I think you have improved, but even at the start I thought you did well with your craft.”  After a winter of practicing speaking together, English came more easily to his tongue. Henry had taken rather naturally to Japanese also.

 

Henry turned back to the painting, pretending to consider it while speaking to the man beside him, “I’m headed to France next, you should come with me.”

 

“Come with you?”  Kenshin blinked. “What would I do in France?”

 

“If you want.” Henry pauses almost imperceptibly before continuing, a number of expressions flashing across his face as Kenshin tried to read it, ‘ _He’s so much better at hiding his emotions from when he arrived_ ’.

 

“Well, get some new clothes for a start.”  Henry halfway jokes, “I mean, how long have you been wearing the same thing?  I think I have only seen two outfits of yours, and no one else wears that anymore.”  He nods at Kenshin’s well worn favored red yukata, which was really more pink at this point. His brown eyes lingered over the fraying collar.

 

Kenshin straightened his clothes self-consciously, “What is wrong with them?” his eyes began to notice the flaws, “besides the re-sown sections.  And...alright, I see your point.” He falls silent for a short while, listening to the stream and watching his friend paint, although it already looked pretty much finished.  

 

Green glanced at Kenshin’s face a few times, but didn’t fight the quiet, knowing that Kenshin was sorting his thoughts.  Eventually, Kenshin replies “I am - not sure I am ready yet to leave. This has been my home for some time, and while I know I can not change the past…”

 

Henry smiled gently, trying not to be disappointed. He reaches over and clasps Kenshin’s shoulder with his off-hand, “I understand.  You will be alright again in time. So will I!  Just keep in mind that if you need a friend, I will be happy to help. It might do you some good to spend time somewhere else.”

 

“I will think on it.” Kenshin halfway smiles and switches back to his native language, “I appreciate your friendship, Henry-san.”

 

Henry laughs and shakes his head, replying in kind, “You had better write to me, or I am going to forget all of my Japanese.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Unknown Mountain, Japan, Winter 1939**

 

Kenshin shifted his hands behind his head and adjusted his weight across the futon.  Sometimes it was just nice to lay down somewhere warm and not worry about anything. For a long time the isolation and serenity of this place had made it easy to forget the world continued outside - seasons, years.   _But then he had made a good friend._  He turned his head, eyes going immediately to his sword hung on the wall, and the painting of a stream signed H. Green.   Even after so long, these were the only real decorations in his room.  The painting which usually brought him such comfort, instead immediately brought the worry back to his mind.

 

They had a radio in town now, with broadcasts of news and other events.  He was hoping to hear news of the war against China and the conflict in Europe when next it was his turn to collect supplies at the village.  He didn’t think he understood the actions of his own government toward their neighbors. His last letter from Henry had said Britain was expecting to be soon at war with Germany, and despite his recently born third son and beautiful wife, Henry Green had been offered and accepted a position back with the Royal Navy.  He had even sent a picture once. They looked good together.

 

Smoothly Kenshin rolled up and got to his feet, walking out through the courtyard and into the main building of the shrine.  As was his habit, he stopped to light some incense for the memory of those he has lost. He will never forget them, but he can speak of his losses now without as much anger or guilt.   _‘Someday, I will find a way to be who they thought I could be.’_ He lights another stick of incense in the hope that some protection will be given to his long absent friend Henry Green and his family, and sat a while in silence.  

 

He could hear Saito-san somewhere outside, humming tunelessly. Saito’s hair was grey now.  Kenshin tried to total up in his head the length of time he had been on the mountain, and he was not sure.  He felt more at peace then when he had arrived, but he didn’t feel much different otherwise. Perhaps it was time to move on. He could see the tower in France that Henry-san had written about so long ago, and perhaps even visit his friend in London. It would give him an occasion to wear the British style suit that Henry had sent him.

 

Writing English was not the same as speaking it.  His skill with writing was much better, but he did not have much occasion to speak to others outside of tourists.  It would be good to practice that again as well. Perhaps he could ask Henry what “gluten free” means. Although he could now read the english on the odd pouches from Kyoto, he still was not much closer to really understanding what it meant. He had been able to re-fill the water-skin numerous times, and it had already outlived a few additional ones he had since.  He had washed and kept the other pouch, but had never really had the heart to use it. He was still worried deep down that it may be responsible for his abnormal youthfulness.

 

* * *

 

 

**Village near Unknown Mountain, Japan, Summer 1940**

 

Kenshin tied the sacks of rice and other provisions to the horse, listening to the radio playing further up the road where a small crowd is gathered,  “...An armistice has been signed in France, ceding control of the country to the joint forces of Germany and Italy, which are now in full occupation of Paris.  This is a blow to the allied powers….” Cinching the final loop tight, Kenshin turned the old horse back up the hill and out range of the broadcast. As he walks through town, he hears others talking about the news, and nods at a few who wave to him as he passes.

 

When he returns to the Shrine a while later, Kenshin hands the horse off to a new stable hand (part of the new stable at the expanded shrine complex he had been helping to build) who bows and stutters awkwardly until Kenshin leaves. It is quite amusing, but the boy’s anxiousness swiftly returns Kenshin’s attention back to his own, which had been building since he heard the broadcast in town.

 

In his last letter, Henry-san had written that his oldest son had already followed in his footsteps and joined the Royal Navy. If something so big as an armistice had happened since then, it was likely that someone like Henry would find a recruiter and immediately rush to the aid of his countrymen.

 

As he arrives in his room, he pulls out some new paper and ink to begin penning a letter.  Starting with news of the three new buildings and those people that Henry knows from his stay at the shrine, Kenshin tells him of the past few months and the tensions he has seen in town.  It seems obvious to him that Japan has been growing it’s armed forces again, although since they are still at war with China, this may be why. He then continues:

 

_‘...Were you or your son involved in Dunkirk? We heard on the radio that many soldiers were saved by the actions of civilians in small boats.  I admit to not knowing how close you are to where those events took place. I should perhaps find a world map._

 

 _How is your family?  Congratulations also on your new son!  You should be proud of such a family. How long has your oldest been interested in the Navy?_ ~~_I had thought after your experiences in the first war_ ~~ _I apologize, I know you had asked me not to speak of that._

 

_I know we have talked before your time in the Navy of your country, but I do not remember you mentioning your son joining before your last letter.  Although I have some skill in war, I fear I will get pulled into a conflict I do not agree with if I remain here much longer. ...'_

 

His friendly questions continue on for a while on a lighter note, and then he switches into Japanese for a few lines, just to keep Henry in practice.  It was something of a game they played with each letter, to see if they could accurately translate the poem or riddle from the other man.

 

_'Kogane sabi_

(The tarnished gold)

_Wakaba ni shinobu_

(And the fresh greenery)

_Mukashi kana_

(Bring back memories of bygone days)

 

_-Miura Chora_

 

_It is always good to hear from you my dearest, friend.  I have been thinking I will come to London and finally see the things you have told me about.  I have missed our conversations and your company. I hope you and your family are all safe and healthy.  If all goes well for me, you will perhaps see my visit within the next year._

 

_Your Friend,_

 

_Himura Kenshin’_

 

* * *

 

**Unknown Mountain Shrine, Japan, Fall 1940**

 

It is already fall when Kenshin hears additional news.  Saito-san returns with a few others from a day in town, and seeks Kenshin out while he is practicing forms.  He steps out into the courtyard area, and raises a hand to get Kenshin’s attention as he moves toward him.

 

“Kenshin, I must apologize for interrupting, but I think you should hear about London.  I know you still write to Green-san, and I thought you would like to know.”

 

Kenshin stops immediately, “News?  What is going on in London?”

 

Saito’s lined face is grave as he replies, “The Germans have been bombing Britain almost constantly for the last few weeks.  I hear there has been much destruction, and many are being evacuated from London. Do you know is Green-san still there?”

 

Kenshin’s normally cheerful face has settled into a furrowed frown while Saito speaks, his worry obvious to all who know him, “I have not heard from him since his letter early this summer.  I had hoped to have a reply soon, but I think he was still in in the city when I wrote.”

 

“I will give an offering for his safety.  I am sorry to bring you such ill news my friend.”  He grasps Kenshin’s arm briefly in comfort, and then turns back toward the main building. He pauses and glances back, “Also, there are soldiers in town, recruiting for Japan.  Some of the others are going to join…” he looks momentarily like he wants to say more, but instead steps back inside.

 

Kenshin watches him go thoughtfully, and then without fully registering the decision he has made in the back of his mind, turns back to the opposite side of the clearing, heading toward his room.  

 

 

* * *

 

[Henry and Kenshin](https://www.instagram.com/p/BvLAUCjglAh/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup mah dudes, this is Popjeckdoom. We're having some issues with the image; but hopefully it works for one of you! 
> 
> Anyway, we hope you liked this chapter; most of the credit goes to Llew admittedly, I just edited some things and added subtle things ;b. Hope you caught the Hamilton reference.


	4. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin discovers he likes travel, and that sometimes not all that is new is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blargh! This is LLewtwo- I seriously suck at chapter summaries. I tried to write one earlier on my phone, but then we couldn't get it post from my phone, so now we are on my computer and they still suck.
> 
> ANywAY! So I love you all! Thank you for the kudos and the comments -especially the comments! It means so much to me and I love to hear what you think. Please let us know how you think it's going!
> 
> Also - only about a chapter and a half more or so before we are caught up to BNHA crossover time periods. Thank you for being so patient! We are trying to hurry through the backstory since it is well....backstory.

 

**Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, Fall 1940**

 

Kenshin decides sea travel is very pleasant.  The brisk salty air and the roll of the ship while he slept he found very calming.  Other than some minor trouble getting them to accept his papers at the port, he had been able to purchase passage on a cargo ship that would get him to London in a little over a month.  He should have visited more places before now! It was surprising that in so short a time, he could be nearly across the entire world! Two weeks into his journey, and he had already seen more of the world then he had in….well the rest of his life.  He was glad for the locked case he had brought with him. His sword carefully packed beneath his clothing, papers, and his few other important belongings that he had collected over time. He had left the painting at the shrine, not wanting to risk losing it in his travels.  

 

He was sharing a cabin with 5 other people.  One of them, Nakamura-san, had told him that it was a good price for international travel, as long as you have the time to devote to it.  Still it seemed very expensive to him, and if the return trip was just as pricey, he may not be able to afford to go back to Japan for a while.  

 

He had not been spending much time in the cabin, as three of the others sharing it had been almost constantly sick the first week, and one still was.  The smell was unpleasant. He did make sure to bring water and some food to them and check to see how they were doing. It hurt him nothing to be kind.  

 

This trip had given him his first opportunity to speak English in quite a while. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed it.  The entirety of this crew spoke at least some English. This was after all, an English ship. Some of them spoke a smattering of other languages.  He had caught a few speaking what he thinks was French, and some other European sounding languages. A few of them also spoke a bit of Japanese or Chinese, since that was part of their regular trade route.  One of the speakers had a terrible accent, coming from a place called Teks-iiiis, but he thinks that he understands most of the time. He will have to ask Henry what “Tarnation” means when he sees him again. 

 

He had managed to find a place on deck to exercise each day, and although Kenshin would have liked more privacy, eventually the First Mate whom everyone called Thatcher, and sometimes other crewmen would join him in his morning routine.  

 

\---

 

It was perhaps 3 weeks into the voyage when he was called up to speak with the Captain, another Englishman named Smith. He stepped into the main cabin. The Captain was at the helm with the First Mate and another man, and they seemed to be having a discussion over heading.  The man who had led him up there nodded at a chair facing a desk, and Kenshin sat. 

 

The crewman walked up to Captain Smith and said something quietly, and the Captain looks up at him with a considering expression as his escort walks back to his post. Smith turns to the first mate and excuses himself from their argument, and steps over to the chair behind his Desk.  Kenshin turns to face him as Smith walks past him to his own chair. “You wanted to speak with me, Captain Smith?” Kenshin says in clear English.

 

The Captain looks momentarily surprised to hear English, then quirks an eyebrow with his reply, his face serious, “Yes Mr. Himura.  I need to know why you are traveling to London.” 

 

“I am traveling to visit a friend of mine, Mr. Green and his family,”  Kenshin smiles openly. “It has been many years since we have seen each other, but we still write frequently.”  

 

Smith considers Kenshin’s words, resting his arms on the desk and clasping his hands together,  “How do you know Mr. Green?”

 

“He came to Japan to learn Japanese and to paint,” Kenshin gestures with one hand, “I taught him Japanese, and he taught me English.”  The Captain just continues to look at him, and so after a moment Kenshin continues, “Oro….He was there for about a year? He lives in London?”  

 

“Hmmm.” The Captain replies, still staring at Kenshin, who begins to suspect that this Captain Smith may also have been in the military at some point.  

 

Kenshin then grins, wondering if this is some sort of a return prank.  Since their recovery from sea sickness, the sons of one of his cabin mates had been exchanging pranks with each other and with him, once they discovered he enjoyed the challenge.   “Did Mr. Nakamura or one of his sons put you up to this? He said he would get me back for the salt in their tea.” 

 

The Captain raises an eyebrow again and briefly flashes a smile, “No.” He coughs, his face returning to seriousness, “I am afraid I am not familiar with Mr. Nakamura.  He is another in your cabin, yes? Do you know him well?”

 

Kenshin is surprised at the change in questioning, “No. Not very well.  He said he travels frequently, and we are in the same cabin so we have of course talked from time to time. This one, oro,” he fumbles briefly, “ _ I _ only met those in my cabin when I paid for the journey. Two of his sons are with him.  The final man in our cabin, Sakana-san, I mean, Mr. Sakana has been ill, but I think he is alone?”

 

Smith nods and then asks, “What did you write to Mr. Green about, and do you have any of the letters with you?”

 

Kenshin paused to think back. “We have talked about many things...He wrote to me about his wife and children quite often. He is quite proud of his children.” He smiles again, laughing internally as several funnier letters and some of the poetry come to mind. “He said his oldest joined him in the Navy earlier this year; I hope they are alright.” Kenshin’s face sobers again at the last comment. “I have all of his letters; I was going to use them to find his home when I arrived in London.”

 

The Captain clears his throat, “I realize it is a breach of privacy, but I will need to see the letters to corroborate your story.  In light of recent events, I am sure you realize why.”

 

“Recent events?” Now Kenshin was even more confused.  _ Did he mean the Blitz? _ That was over  a month ago, now. And as far as he knew, he looked nothing like a German man. “Oro… Do you perhaps mean the bombings of London?  I am going to London to check on Mr. Green because of our long friendship, but you can see the letters if you wish?” He began to stand to collect them, “Could I please ask though, what events do you mean?”

 

The Captain looked surprised. “The Pact of Mutual Alliance? Japan allied itself with the Germans almost a week ago.  It’s been broadcast on the radio on almost every frequency.”

 

Kenshin’s heart froze and he sank back into the chair.  _ What?!? Why on Earth would his homeland ally itself with a country that preached violence against other races? _ His departure from the shrine seemed to have come at the last possible moment to avoid possibly being forced into another war.  The recruiters in town outside the shrine now took on another role in retrospect. He had disagreed with many of Japan’s actions in recent years; such as the aggression against China, but this, as Henry had once said, ‘took the cake’.

 

The Captain was carefully watching his reactions, his own expression a schooled neutral.

 

“An alliance...with the Nazi’s?” He asked, his face and body language echoing his shock. “Oro...are they mad?” He muttered to himself. Kenshin shook his head, momentarily overwhelmed by what this will mean for his country. “I did not know their stupidity had reached these new heights.” He grumbled, running a hand over his face.

 

The First Mate walks over to them, handing Smith a slip of paper when the Captain turns his attention to him.  Smith reads the note, then raises his eyes to Kenshin again. “Thank you for your honesty. Thatcher here will escort you back to your cabin.  Please provide him the letters.” The Captain begins to stand, then turns back to Kenshin, “Do Mr. Nakamura or Mr. Sakana speak English?”

 

Kenshin replies thoughtfully, “I have only spoken to them in Japanese, but I can ask when I return to my cabin.“  His face momentarily reflects his worry as he stands again, “Will I be able to get the letters back?” 

 

The First Mate, Thatcher, glances to the Captain before answering for him, “As long as your story checks out, I don’t see why not.”

 

Kenshin hopes that means yes, bows to the Captain who has already turned his attention elsewhere, and follows Thatcher back out onto the deck and toward his Cabin. “Sorry about all this, Mr. Himura.  The Captain is only doing what he must to ensure the safety of those on board.” Thatcher says over his shoulder as he walks. “He really is a good sort. A great man to serve under.” The First Mate smiles apologetically at him as they arrive at his door. 

 

Kenshin nods in understanding and steps into his shared cabin, which is surprisingly empty, and pulls his locked case from under his wall mounted bunk.  Unlocking it with the key around his neck, he pulls the twine wrapped stack of letters out and stands, offering them to the uncomfortably shifting Thatcher.  This one had probably not been in the military - he wears his emotions so openly! “Please let me know if he needs the Japanese portions translated.” Thatcher nodded and quickly departed with the letters.  

 

Needing something to channel his worry, Kenshin returned to the portion of the deck where he usually did his morning workout. He tried to clear his mind as he worked through the usual movements and forms, almost surprised that the sun was still shining and the sea air still pleasant when the news of the day had been so bad. In the background, he could hear gulls, which he was told meant they must be sailing close to land.  

 

Stopping midway through his routine, he walked over to the railing and leaned on it, just watching the waves for a while.  He understood, he really did. He had been through war before, and the actions of his country reflected on him, as much as his actions may reflect upon his country.   _ Perhaps there is some way I can show I mean no harm, that my views and those of those now governing Japan no longer align. _

 

No answer comes to him as he considers the sun reflecting off the water, the sea wind and the movement of the ship with the waves ruffling his clothes.

 

\---

 

It was a few days before the crew got back to him about the letters. Apparently, given the younger crew members’ habit of gossiping like old women; a translator, another crewman, and the captain himself had dedicated a few hours every day going through years of personal letters. Kenshin supposed it should make him uncomfortable, but he had nothing to hide. Henry was a good friend, Kenshin was concerned for his safety, and that was the long and short of it.

 

He was called back to the bridge, led by a different young man this time (who also had red hair, as Kenshin was amused to observe), and he was asked to sit in the same uncomfortable chair as last time.  As he sat he noticed that the desk was bolted to the floor. 

 

Captain Smith eyed him from across the desk. The man seemed tired, which was unsurprising given that he had very few free hours ignoring the time dedicated to reading through Kenshin’s letters. A good captain like Smith wouldn’t be here, however, if he felt he was unfit to work for the day, so Kenshin decided against bringing it up.

 

Suddenly, the Captain spoke. “Have you ever been married, Mr. Himura?” Kenshin blinked,  unprepared for the seeming randomness of the question.

 

“Yes, many years ago, now,” he met the Captain’s gaze, “She died - we were both still very young.”

 

“..How young were you, when you were married?” Smith is eyeing him again, but in a way Kenshin recognises. Many people have said he ages well; he looks to be perhaps thirty, if you gave a generous estimate upward. Of course, last time he checked, some time in 1851 subtracted from 1940 is - not thirty.  His mind immediately shied away from the impossible passage of time. Curse that mysterious yellow package.

 

“Oro,  _ very _ young,” he says, perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Sixteen...Eighteen...somewhere around there.” The Captain looked confused, so Kenshin clarifies, “I am from a rural town, I do not know my exact birthday..or year.”

 

“I see.” Smith leans back into his chair, “Well, Mr. Himura, your letters seem...innocent enough,” another look, this time with a small glance at Thatcher, who had coughed right after Smith had finished his statement, “So they’ll be sorted by date, as they were originally, and returned to you shortly.”

 

“Thank you.” Kenshin deemed that sentence safe enough. He was usually oblivious to social cues, but even he could not ignore the scrutiny of Thatcher from his side. He felt awkward, although also pleased to hear his letters would be returned. 

 

“Murray will bring you your letters shortly.”  Captain Smith gestures to the red haired lad that had brought him to this meeting. “When he makes it back to the cabin, can you please tell Mr. Nakamura to accompany Murray back to speak with me?” 

 

“That reminds me, Mr….oro..Captain,... Smith.” Kenshin flinches subtly as he stumbles over his own words again, “You have asked me to speak to them?  Both Nakamura and Sakana have said they have some basic knowledge of English, but it would probably be good to have a translator for more than simple conversation.”  Kenshin stands as the Captain does, “I can help, if you need assistance.” 

 

The Captain nods thoughtfully, glances at Thatcher who is giving Kenshin the side eye, and then nods again, “I will call if we have need of your skills.  Good Day, Mr. Himura.”

 

Kenshin bows to the Captain, and this time returns to his cabin alone. 

 

\------

 

It was late the following evening, thinking over the events of the past few weeks, when Kenshin first became suspicious of Sakana-san’s ‘illness’.  It came and went at strange times; with no reasons that Kenshin could infer. It had seemingly nothing to with the tide, and ebbed away at a whim. Whenever he wasn’t sick, Sakana-san would wander the ship, and frequently Kenshin had seen him slip into areas not permitted to passengers. The younger man had claimed it was because he couldn’t read the signs, but Kenshin knew very well that he at least knew what the word ‘head’ looked like ( _ although why the toilet was a head he didn’t know) _ , and ‘crew only’ looked nothing like it.

 

Kenshin had decided to approach the First Mate about his concerns, and so this time he walked toward the bridge on his own. He was startled out of his thoughts when the exact man he was looking for stepped out of another passageway and nearly ran into him.  Thatcher stumbled back quickly. “Ah...Good evening! Mr. Himura.” 

 

The first mate had been oddly nervous around him lately, and Kenshin hadn’t been able to figure out why. It was rather amusing, honestly. 

 

“Oro, I was looking for you,” Kenshin said. The man slowly began turning an interesting shade of red.

 

“For me?” Thatcher squeaked. “I mean, uh, what can I do for you?”

 

“You have been helping the Captain with the …. Investigation of my purpose, going to London, and the others, yes?” Kenshin questioned. Thatcher, who had probably just come from a shower with his wet hair and only partially buttoned shirt, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but nodded.

 

“..yes. Please understand, I can’t divulge any information to you--” Thatcher said awkwardly, but Kenshin waved his hands as he had seen Henry do, interrupting him.

 

“No, no! I need no information.” Kenshin looked up and down the hall quickly, and leaned forward slightly. Quietly, he continued, “My cabin-mate, Sakana-san, has been ‘ill’ this whole voyage. I do not believe that is truly the case.” Kenshin floundered for words. “He...I have seen him _ -oro, what is the word- _ sneaking about the crew only hallways, and his sickness is like none I’ve seen. I have concerns he is attempting to deceive us.”

 

Thatcher no longer looked awkward; his face hardened into that of a man considering his options. With a small glance over Kenshin’s shoulder, the first mate gestured for Kenshin to follow, and they walked briskly to the Bridge. 

 

The First Mate nodded to the man on duty beside the door, and opening it, gestured Kenshin to precede him inside.

 

“Captain Smith, Sir.” spoke Thatcher as they stepped up to the Captain’s side.  

 

The Captain looked up from his station in surprise, “Thatcher?  Forgot something? I thought you had gone to bed...” he trailed off as he noticed Kenshin standing behind the First Mate. “Mr. Himura --” the Captain turned his attention back to Thatcher for an explanation.

 

“Sir, Mr. Himura brought some information to my attention about one of his cabin mates.  I thought you would want to hear it immediately.” he nodded to Kenshin to continue.

 

“Captain Smith.  I have noticed Mr. Sakana may have been faking his long illness.  I also have seen him enter some of the areas marked only for crew.  I felt that I should bring this to Mr. Thatcher, who brought me to you.”

 

The Captain’s eyebrows raised as Kenshin spoke, he frowned somewhat, and asked after a considerable pause asked Thatcher, “Can you get me the letter from Mr. Sakana for his nephew?” 

 

Thatcher nodded and went to the desk, shuffling through a drawer briefly before returning with a letter that had not yet been posted.  It appeared to be ready to post upon reaching shore. “Here you are Sir.” The Captain directs the letter to Kenshin, and Thatcher hands it over.

 

“Can you read through that, and let me know if anything stands out to you - anything at all?” The Captain requests.  Kenshin pulls out the letter and begins to read it to himself. Pausing, he reads a section again, and then shows that section to the Captain.  

 

“Here”, he points “this part he writing about how he looks forward to viewing the cherry blossoms in December, and to have ticket purchased by October.” 

 

The Captain nods, looking up from the Japanese script to Kenshin’s face as he continues, “What is odd about it?”

 

“There are no cherry trees blooming in December.  The earliest anywhere in Japan they have flowers is usually late January.  Also, you do not need tickets to view - they are all over the place, you can walk around and see them.”  Kenshin frowned thoughtfully, “Also - and I could be wrong about this, I do not think that Sakana has a nephew.  I seem to remember he said he had no family.”

 

The Captain and Thatcher exchanged a look. “Thatcher, please collect Mr. Sakana and his things - take Maxwell and Baker with you.”

 

Kenshin just raises an eyebrow and offers the letter back to the Captain as Thatcher leaves the room. 

 

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Himura.  We had some reservations about Mr. Sakana, but combined with your input and additional information, we think we have found who we were looking for.” The Captain smiles genuinely, and Kenshin realises this is one of the only real smiles he has seen from the man. “If you are up to it, I would appreciate if you spend some time with our translator during the remaining journey - see if you can give him some pointers as Japanese is relatively new to him.”

 

Kenshin bows, and tries not to feel embarrassed about the whole situation. “Of course.  I will do my best.”

 

\---

 

When he gets back to his cabin some time later, Mr. Sakana’s bunk is empty, and Mr. Nakamura and his sons are talking worriedly amongst themselves.  They fall silent as he walks in, and remain so while he falls asleep, the rock of the ship lulling him finally into unconsciousness. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this is Popjeckdoom :D No art this chapter; but there will be some next time.
> 
> I would say more, but I hate typing on Llew's computer :b


	5. London Bridge is Falling Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin makes it to London, meets a small child, and gets dragged back into the military.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! Sorry this is late-ish. This is the last chapter we has partially written. So....updating is fun! Hopefully we will be able to stick to the once a week-ish schedule we've had so far. 
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this chapter (where to break, what to leave out, etc) but hopefully it turned out ok. Its a bit choppier because we wanted to cover more ground...well anyway!
> 
> Thank you again for all your wonderful Comments and Kudos!! They mean so much!
> 
> Also - I have no real idea anything about the British military, other than from old war movies (mostly American ones) and semi-late night research on my laptop while trying to make things sound better - so if you know more than we do or we need to fix something, please let us know!!
> 
> Also, see notes below for Popjeckdoom's comments - and check out the art :)

**London, England - Mid to Late October 1940**

 

It’s a drizzly and cool morning when Kenshin gets his first view of the port.  They are escorted in by a small tugboat in the early hours. Having packed the day before, his returned packet of letters were back in his case, and he was already ready to disembark.  He had rigged it with some rope so he could carry it across his back - all of his things except the new letter of recommendation from Captain Smith, should he have need of it. That letter along with his papers were tucked into the inside of his jacket.  Mr. Nakamura was finishing up his packing in the cabin with his sons, and Kensin was simply enjoying the feel of the mist on his face and the new surroundings.

 

He really was enjoying the whole experience...up until the fog began to clear from the shoreline.

 

Kenshin had been faced with war before. He was no stranger to the results of conflict, but this...level of destruction, was truly something new.  Horrific, but new. His face blanked, and he took in the rubble, remains of buildings fallen upon each other, into the port, everywhere. Remains of burned out buildings besides rubble, beside...completely normal buildings, which looked fine.  The bombings must have been more significant then even was stated on the radio. He could even see some lingering smoke in the distance.

 

Those of the crew that had been working nearby, or whom had been watching at the rail nearby had similar expressions of shock.  Work had paused or slowed significantly, and Kenshin realized this was probably the first these men had seen of their homeland for some months.  Perhaps they didn’t know if their families were safe, or if their homes were still standing. Suddenly feeling as if he were intruding, Kenshin moved back against a bulkhead and waited for the docking to complete.  It did, in somewhat eerie silence.

 

Once the gangplank was pushed to dock, and some of the crew had disembarked, Kenshin was waved over by Thatcher, who flashed a brief half-smile, and invited him to follow down to the customs personnel.  By this point Mr. Nakamura and his sons had also joined those on deck, and followed them down to the shore.

 

He escorted them down the dock and handed them off to a middle aged man in a thick grey wool coat, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.  After a cursory review of their papers and asking their reasons for visiting, they were released past the barricade and Kenshin started walking down the semi-destroyed street into this very foreign city.  He spared a brief pitying thought for Mr. Nakamura and his sons, who had not only headed in a different direction, but only one of whom actually read any English.

 

Kenshin still felt the roll of the ship although he was on land.  He wasn’t sure why, but he did know it would throw his balance off a bit if he needed to fight.  Deciding to find someone who looked official and could perhaps provide directions, Kenshin set off down a street that seemed somewhat intact, and was immediately glad he had decided to change into the suit before disembarking.  He was getting a few odd looks, but not as many he thought as if he had been wearing his traditional Japanese style clothing.

 

He spent about two hours wandering semi-aimlessly into the city, taking in not only the odd mix of destruction but also being amazed by the people.  He got a few looks, sure, but he got a few smiles as well, and a small girl walking with a group of other children even waved hello when she noticed him watching them.  A school group maybe? The women escorting them glanced up at him distrustfully, but continued without saying anything. He stopped at one point to help an old man clear rubble from a doorway, and again later to help a ratty looking cat get a half eaten fish out from a rubbish pile. He chucked a bit as the cat ran off with it’s prize.

 

Continuing down the main street Kenshin smelled something delicious and fried, and following his nose to a man who appeared to be selling fish and chips out of a small stand between larger buildings, he suddenly realized he was also without any English money.  He couldn’t even remember Green talking about money while they had been at the shrine, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting any work in order to feed himself. Trying not to smell or look at the very wonderful food, Kenshin cleared his throat and hoped he wouldn’t drool.  “Excuse me Sir, do you know where I could find a money changer, or somewhere I could trade work..” Kenshin glanced toward a nearby ruin of a building, “Or...help with recovery”?”

 

The man appears momentarily surprised and scratches the back of his neck. “Ahh, not sure?  You could try the port? Or the war offices - or really, just look around for any who seem to need a hand?”  He gestures down the street, “Further down that way, look for the signs that identify the shelter - plenty to help there.”  A flash of guilt and regret crosses the man’s face, “and ‘ere…” the man grumbles. He wraps up some fried fish in newspaper and hands them over to Kenshin, who is momentarily speechless while passing the hot greasy package from one hand to the other, “I ken see you are ‘ungry.  Just...do what good you can. Right?”

 

The man nods dismissively, turning to the next person approaching the stand, and Kenshin brightly smiles and bows his thanks and continues down the street, suddenly in much better spirits despite the semi-destroyed surroundings.

 

* * *

 

It ended up taking almost a week to reach the part of London that Henry Green and family lived in.  Kenshin couldn’t help but stop and work with the recovery crews on the way, and usually he was fed and had a place to sleep at one of the shelters at night.  The fourth night he even experienced an air raid siren for the first time. A stream of people crowded into the shelter with him and those few already there, and it was an odd mix of tension and normal conversation.  Some of them were even wearing odd masks that covered most of their faces. A middle aged man, his wife and a young baby ended up right next to him, and he could hear them arguing about going into the countryside. There was a loud thud somewhere nearby and the room shook a bit, dust falling from the ceiling and the lights flickering.  The baby began crying along with some people further back in the shelter, and the woman looked worried. She just nodded silently when her husband insisted that tomorrow they leave for her sister’s house.

 

Kenshin noticed a small boy of 7 or 8 years curled into himself against the wall, arms covering his head protectively.  He seemed to be alone. Kenshin stood, pulling up the blanket he had been given earlier and slinging his case across his back, and carefully shuffled over trying to avoid stepping on anyone.  He crouched down in front of the child and wrapped the blanket around the boy’s shoulders. The boy looked up startled with round green eyes. He had obviously been crying, and Kenshin could now see that he had a shallow cut on the side of his face as well.  “Are you alright? Can I help you?”

 

Both of them looked up as another more distant thud rattled the room, then glanced back down to avoid dust in their eyes.  The boy sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm, leaving a trail of snot and blood across his cheek. “N..no….Im m..k.” the boy replied in a shaky treble.  “Just, c..can’t f..f.find m’sister.” Kenshin shifted to sit beside him against the wall. “Is she here? What does she look like?”, he coaxed gently, trying to keep the boy’s focus on him and not on the outside world.  

 

“S..she….ran the other way!”,  the boy broke down again, and Kenshin wrapped one arm around him comfortingly.  “I am sure she will be fine. We can look together once this stops, yes?” The boy continued crying, having buried his face against Kenshin’s side.  Kenshin glanced up again at another distant rumble, and waited with the others for the long night to end.

 

* * *

 

Kenshin woke chilled against the stone wall and with a cramp in his arm.  The boy had obviously fallen asleep at some point as well, and was still curled up half against his side and with tight grip around his arm. _Well...that explains the cramp._  Kenshin genty tried to disentangle himself so that he could return circulation to his hand.  Some of those in the shelter had left once the all clear sounded a few hours ago, but many of the others were still here.  The sound of people moving around had awakened him from his sleep - that and there was a flash of weak daylight down the stairs when someone went outside.  

 

He reached over after rubbing out his arm and shook the boy softly “..oro...Boy?  It is morning…” The boy grumbled something and rubbed his eyes, his face covered in grime but the cut no longer bleeding.  Kenshin patted his shoulder and stood up to stretch, “We can look for your sister, yes? And we should find something to clean up that cut on your face so it doesn’t turn sour.”  He smiled down at the wide-eyed child who scrambled up and was dusting himself off, trying to look older than he probably was.

 

“Thanks mister...‘ere is your blanket”, he crouched down and scooped the blanket up, offering it to Kenshin.  “Sorry about...blabberin’ on you last night.”, he lowered his eyes a bit with a flush of embarrassment, “I ken take carro’ myself mostly.  You serious about ‘elpin’ me to find my sister?”

 

“Of course, but it will be easier if I know your name”, Kenshin smiled, folding up the blanket and draping it over his shoulder, “You can call me Himura.”

 

“Ah...sorry, yes!  I’m Jeffrey, Jeffrey Fisher.”,  he thrust out a dirty hand and Kenshin remembered to shake it.

 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jeffrey Fisher.”

 

Jeffry wrinkled his nose a bit, “Just Jeffrey.”  Kenshin nodded.

 

“So what does your sister look like, Jeffrey?”  

 

* * *

 

Kenshin had been told before that he was good with children, but he didn’t think he’d been alone with someone so young for a very long time. Not since...well.  Kenshin cut the thought off there. Jeffery was quiet, obviously worried about his sister, and after the third shelter Kenshin could see the boy was beginning to lose hope.

 

“I don’ think she’s ‘ere, Mr. ‘mura,” Jeffery sighed. Kenshin patted the boy on the back, looking around to see if he could spot her. From was Jeffrey had described, he was looking for a smaller girl; basically Jeffery but with longer blond hair and blue eyes. It was an endeavor in vain, because there wasn’t a young girl of that description in sight.

 

Kenshin sighed. “I have an idea,” he said, after a few moments. Jeffrey looked up at him. “I came here to find my friend, Green-san. Let’s go to his house, and get his help to find your sister.  He may have a better idea of where to look?”

 

“Alrigh’.” Jeffery sniffled a bit. “Whats ‘san’ mean, Mr. ‘mura?”

 

“Oro.” Kenshin blinked.

 

* * *

 

Using the letters in his suitcase and Jeffery’s far more intimate knowledge of London and its streets, they did finally make their way to where Green had sent his letters from. His tension increased as they got closer to the address, since the obvious damage to the neighborhood was high.  Unfortunately, it just got worse as they made their way around the debris. What had once been a two story house belonging to a family was now a pile of rubble collapsed over half the street. There was a small section of the house still standing in the back, but it looks as if it has been abandoned for a while.  Fear momentarily filled Kenshin’s being. Was Henry okay? Was is family? Quickly, however, Kenshin centered himself. He had a child with him who was already worried and scared, and Jeffery needed someone calm to lean on for now.

 

“Mister ‘mura, do you think your friend is okay?” Jeffery asked, looking up at him from where he held Kenshin’s free hand. Kenshin nodded, taking a deep breath in.

 

“I will be right back Jeffrey, I am going to go to that bit in the back and make sure that there is no one still here.”  The boy looked at him skeptically, but as tired as he was he just nodded and sat down, wrapping the blanket he had claimed as his own around him.

 

“Yell if you fall or somethin’.”  Kensin flashed a grin and left his case with Jeffrey, heading over the rubble and around what had been the side of the house.  As he neared the remaining sections, he was surprised to see that there was a door still intact, along with taped over windows and a little bell which he assumed was to ring if someone came to the back.  He tried the door which was ironically locked, but was able to climb through a large crack in the wall closer to the corner of the house.

 

Brushing dust and rubble off of himself, he appeared to be in a large kitchen.  Other than the layer of dirt in some areas, and bits of brick near the crack, he might have expected someone to walk in any moment.  This room was almost completely intact, and he could tell it was a fairly nice home from the care with which things were stored around the room.  It was however obvious that no one had been back to the house after the destruction. The door on the opposite side of the room could not be opened all the way - blocked by rubble.  

 

He tried the slightly ajar cupboard doors, and was surprised to see that the biggest one opened up into a small pantry type room.  He momentarily felt guilt, but realized that Henry wouldn’t begrudge him whatever he could find. Especially for the boy. He grabbed a hard half cheese and a small string of sausages, and found a basket with some very stale bread.  He decided it was better than nothing, and collected the bread too. Rummaging a bit he found a cheese cloth and wrapped up his scavengings, and looked around until he found a small knife. Taking that as well, he squeezed back through the crack in the wall.  He was somewhat relieved not to have seen the sign that anyone was home when the house was ruined. Hopefully he was right.

 

Kenshin made his way back around the house and over the debris, and smiled at the sight of Jeffrey curled up on the ground, surprisingly asleep.  No doubt it had been a very hard and tiring few days for the child. He sat down and shook his shoulder gently “Jeffrey - I have some food. Are you hungry?”  

 

Jeffrey woke up almost immediately and scrambled back to a sitting position, “Ah!  oh..uh...Yeah?” he scratched the back of his neck and peered at the wrapped cheesecloth.  “What do you have?” Cutting off one of the sausages and a sliver of cheese he handed both to Jeffrey, who happily started eating without talking any further.  

 

They shared one of the stale rolls, and Kenshin also ate one of the sausages before wrapping the rest up. “We’ll save some for later, yes?” he smiled.  Jeffrey eyed the bumpy cloth with some regret but nodded.

 

Kenshin turned his eyes back to the wreckage of Henry’s home and couldn’t help the flash of worry that crossed his face.  Standing, he swung his case back over his shoulder, and he forced himself to smile at the boy, “Well…” he trailed off and looked down, not sure what to say. _Is he to be allowed to care for anyone and not lose them?_  Jeffrey stood and took hold of his hand again, “It’s ok Mr. ‘mura, we will find them, right?  Them an’ my sister.” Kenshin’s smile flashed back to his usual brightness, touched by the gesture of comfort from Jeffrey, who himself had been through so much. “There is a way to find out, that there is,” Kenshin said, “Did you see a war office on the way here, Jeffery?”

 

* * *

 

**London, England.  December, 1940.**

 

Kenshin looked down at his pressed, navy blue uniform and sighed.  A pity he couldn’t just have worn the suit or his normal clothes. He waited with a few others on the dock-side for the boat that would ferry all of them out to their ride...berth...ship.  He ran his hands through his shorn hair and sighed. His head was cold. At least they could have let him keep his hair. It was so....short now.  He shoved the hat back onto his head and picked up his bag - stuffed with other identical and similar clothes - and his case.  On that he had insisted. He was sure he looked even more foreign with short hair.  It wasn’t as if his asian features and violet eyes were common in Europe.

 

Not that violet eyes were common in Japan, either.

 

He stood with the others and gathered his things as a lieutenant with a clip-board came and started checking their orders. While he waited, he thought of Jeffrey, who was safely on his way to the countryside along a number of other children.  A girl with the same name as his sister (who had told the caretakers that her brother was still missing) was at the location he was being sent. Hopefully it was actually his sister. Kenshin said he would write to him, so hopefully the boy would get his letters.  

 

The War Office had been unable to help him find out what happened with the Greens, but they were happy to see his letter of recommendation from Captain Smith, as well as a few other notes that some of the recovery crew leaders had written for him.  The first two days had been repeated discussions between other people at him that went somewhat over his head head about duty and the honor of working for the good of all. This was followed by the conversation with with someone with more rank and someone from “intelligence?” when he agreed with whatever the first man had been asking.  Then another talk with his superior… Eventually he had then been shuffled into a room and left for a day to rest.

 

He had been asleep on the floor when they had come to collect him again - the bed was too soft.  After another half day of being interrogated by a man that seemed sure he was a spy, he was finally interviewed by a man who listened to him, rather than just talking at him.  Kenshin explained yet again that he was here to find Green - but that he was happy to help them with translation or instruction of Japanese, or recovery in the meantime. The man had reviewed his papers and letters, and taken him at his word. After a physical exam and signing some newly typed papers with his name written in English - he was on his way to….well he didn’t know where, but supposedly they needed people to instruct Japanese.  

 

When he had happily agreed, he hadn’t quite realized that meant he essentially would be joining the military again. They told him he was going to be commissioned a “Special Officer” (he wasn’t sure just what that meant), and only a month later, after a number of tests and him learning a crash course in Navy protocol, here he was.  Kenshin was next in line, and stepped forward offering his papers to the Lieutenant for him to check off and stamp. “Special Officer Himura reporting.”

 

The man looked up from his cursory review of his paperwork and smiled.  “Looks in order.” He stamped Kenshin’s papers and consulted his clipboard.  “You’re on the leeward side, down three levels, door 14. Lower bunk. Further orders will be provided on ship.”  The man turned to the next in line, and Himura joined the rest of those waiting on the transport. Upon arriving at ship he attempted to follow the half-remembered instructions, and tried to avoid running into anyone else with his bag.  When he had said he wanted to help - anything they needed him to do - this wasn’t quite what he had meant. Still....This was good, something positive to do, something to help him continue to live...and help others to live. At least so he hoped.

 

An hour later, Kenshin and the other new men were pulled aside and given their standing orders. Kenshin would be preparing what basically amounted to a crash course in Japanese language and culture. The military didn’t care over-much for it; but Kenshin remembered the letter he’d translated on the ship to London, and how, to someone unfamiliar with the seasons and culture of Japan, it had seemed innocent.  Knowing something as simple as when cherry trees blossomed could very well save thousands.  Then again, it had been a very long time since Kenshin had had to teach anyone anything.  His last student, in fact, had been Henry nearly….oro... nearly 10 years ago, now?

 

Kenshin suddenly felt incredibly old, indeed. Curse that strange Banilla pouch and it’s mysterious, sweet contents. He would likely never know if it was truly the culprit, but it had become tradition, almost, to blame it for all inconveniences.

 

* * *

 

**Off the coast of Portugal, December 1940**

 

After three days at sea he was almost done preparing for the briefing that afternoon.  He needed to have an outline prepared for a two week course, a month long course, and a six month course that was more comprehensive.  That along with lesson plans and his turn at shifts for radio operation and chores kept him fairly busy. Once he was finished and handed over his plans, then the experts would have their crack at changing it for when they arrived.  He momentarily considered writing all of his notes in Japanese to turn in, just for fun, but he knew that would just get him in trouble, and he was _trying_ to help.   _Maybe just half of them in Japanese…_    

 

At least the ship has tea, which was a wonderful perk. He stopped by the mess to collect himself a pot of just that, and then retreated to his shared room which also had a shared desk.  His bunkmates were all on shift, so he should be able to finish his review and finalize his outlines before the briefing. Sitting and pouring himself a cup, he was momentarily startled by a loud horn noise that he belatedly realized was the alert signal.  Quickly downing the still too hot tea and gasping a bit of air to cool his mouth, he left his cabin and began heading to his station, only to be knocked off of his feet as someone seemingly fell from the air on top of him.

 

Kenshin grunted in startled pain as his head hit the metal deck of the passageway.  He hadn’t even noticed anyone there! He needed to pay more attention. The man who had knocked him down scrambled up. “I am so sorry!  Are you alright?” The man, dressed in a utilitarian black jumpsuit with a pouched belt extended a hand to help him up.

 

“Ah yes, thank you.”  Kenshin said as he was pulled to his feet. The man was surprisingly strong. “Are you alright?  Having trouble getting your sea legs?” Kenshin considered the odd uniform and wrapped scarf - not one he had seen before.  The man’s hair was somewhat long and messy too... perhaps he was an engineer or worked on deck? So many things he still just didn’t know about this place.

 

A flash of something almost akin to recognition and surprise flashed over the man’s face, but then he quickly turned away, and looking about him in some apparent confusion the man replied, “...Something like that.” He half smiled and bowed, “excuse me.” A flash of yellow was visible at his neck as he straightened up and then took off down the corridor, quickly turning around the corner.  Kenshin assumed he was heading to his station and turned back on his own path, filing the encounter away for later.

 

It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over the ship’s cat (whom he had nicknamed mochi because of her chubby appearance) that he realized that entire encounter had been in Japanese.  ‘ _...Hmm..must be another instructor on board.  It will be nice to work with them!’_

 

The all clear signal sounded right as he made it all the way to his station, and a ship wide announcement stated u-boats have been sighted in the area.  One reported sunk by another ship prompted some brief cheers from surrounding crewmen. Heading back to his cabin after a short exchange with the radio operator notifying him he would be off for the remainder of the morning, Kenshin decided he was tired of looking at lesson plans.  ‘I _can just wait and coordinate my plans with the other instructor_ .   _He will likely be there at the afternoon briefing anyway - better to speak with him before finalizing anything else.’_

 

* * *

 

The briefing that afternoon was fairly short. He met the rest of the instructors - One for Italian, one German, and one Russian, and they turned over their lesson plans for review.  Kenshin stood slowly after they were dismissed, and waited until the Schoolmaster had completed gathering all their reports to get his attention. “Ser, I was wondering, is there another Japanese instructor on board?  Or anyone that you know would be fluent in Japanese?”

 

The man shook his head and laughed, “Ah, not that common of a language for most here.  No. You are the only one I know of on board - we have one other instructor at the school, but that’s all.”

 

Kenshin nodded slowly, nervously smoothing his short hair, and considering that he could just be losing his mind. “Thank you Ser.”   

 

The Schoolmaster nodded again, and left the room.

 

 _‘Had the man actually been speaking Japanese?  He was somehow familiar...do I remember him from somewhere else on ship?’_ Kenshin sighed aloud and started walking balk to his cabin.  He probably just needed more sleep.

 

Entering his cabin he was sad to discover the tea was now cold.  Straightening up his notes he collapsed back on his bunk. Hopefully all of this was worth it.  Hopefully Green was ok, and his family was also. After a brief fight with himself he decided to spend some time writing a letter to Jeffrey-chan and Henry-kun.  Who knows if they will ever get the letters, but if there is one thing Kenshin learned from his previous experiences, it is that you should say things when you have the chance.  If he really was losing his mind - no time like the present.

 

* * *

 

 

[Kenshin with new Hair :D](https://www.instagram.com/p/BvxfTilA0F6/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to do two art pieces for this chapter and we're already late :/
> 
> Hey, you guys remember when The Stages Grief One through Three were the entire backstory??? No?? Yeah lol me neither ;')


	6. Chapter 6 - Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Llewtwo continues to be awful at summaries. Popjeckdoom continues to laugh at her pain. 
> 
> A man falls from the sky.  
> Kenshin is confused.  
> Mochi desires scritches.  
> Kenshin is way worse at protection detail than originally planned.
> 
>  
> 
> At the very end - bonus points to anyone who catches the reference :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this is later than my (LLewtwo) not posted completely arbitrary update schedule. Popjeckdoom continues to remind me that we don't actually have an update schedule. It continues to bother me ( >.>)
> 
> Apologies for anything not quite historically accurate. I am trying to research it out as we go, but sometimes I just make stuff up as plot assist.
> 
> Thank you guys for 66 kudos! I love that you think this is worth reading. Please please please comment and let us know what you think!

 

**Mediterranean Sea, December, 1940**

 

Sunlight puddles were the best.  Eyes half closed, and lounging comfortably in the sunlight, Patches-Mochi twitched her ear toward the noise of the door opening.  Languidly standing with a long stretch and raised tail, She greeted _Mrewe_ and twirled briefly around the legs of the first mate (must leave a new coat of hair to claim her people-kittens after all) before heading out into the passageway.   

 

It was early yet, but time for her rounds.  

 

First, all the way to the engine room.  She had charmed her way into their good graces and enjoyed leaving random gifts for the people-kittens down here.  They saved her yummy things and gave her good scritches. They had all gotten very excited when she batted a shiney hard thing out from under some piping and where they could reach it on the floor.  That had been a very good scritch day. It was very odd though, they seemed unsure when she left food for them. It was as if they didn’t even know what to do with a perfectly good rat. The rats disappeared pretty quickly, but she had yet to see any of them actually eat one.

 

After distributing purred _Mrreww_ s and more head butting and leg twirling, Mochi continued around the ship, checking things out and eventually taking a shortcut onto some piping and made her way to the galley. She jumped up onto her usual perch beside the kitchen door, and announced her presence.  When she had first become the ship cat, she had made the mistake of going into the kitchen. An angry red-faced-kitten-person had chased her out, but one of the others always had something extra to share and some pets.

 

“g’Morning Patches!” greeted the brown haired-food-kitten, one of the cooks, setting a small plate of scraps and a bowl of water up for her to enjoy.   _Prrrow!_  She happily replied, and continued telling him what she thought while trying the food.  Quite good really, better than rat, an he always seemed to think it funny when she talked while she ate.  A short, grumpy voice calling for him made him stop petting and look up, and then with a last pat he headed back into the kitchen.

 

After making sure her whiskers were sufficiently clean, she hopped down off the table and curled around the legs of a few more crewmen for good measure before wandering back into the hallway.  

 

All in all she felt pretty good about the day...

 

Until the RETURN OF THE AWFUL HOOTING NOISE.

 

Startled, she raced down the corridor and tried to hide herself anywhere she could find.  She ran into a cabin door as it opened and scooted up under a bunk - which was perfect until the bunk was lifted and a kitten-person she didn’t recognize was peering at her with confusion.  She took off again, back out the open door, squishing her somewhat fluffy self behind some pipes, and crouched shivering for a few minutes while people ran up and down past her.

 

Eventually, the people running slowed, then stopped, although the loud noise continued.  She creeped out into the passageway, peering carefully down at the next corner when she was suddenly almost crushed and someone tripped over her with a loud “Oro!”

 

She yowled and scrambled as best she could back behind the pipes, glaring at the Small-red-kitten-person and arching her back intimidatingly.  

 

“Sumimasen Mochi!!” the Small-red-kitten-person called out to her as he scrambled up, and continued jogging down the hallway and around the corner.  Unacceptable. She began angrily cleaning her ruffled fur and tried to think of ways to make the Small-red-kitten-person regret not paying attention to where he was going or even apologizing properly with scritches and treats for his adoptive mother.  Foolish kitten.

 

The loud annoying noise finally stopped, and changed to some other garbled kitten-person sounds, then went silent. She looked up to the end of the corridor as another man-kitten-person peered with black eyes down the hallway.  This one was wearing a bed-thing and bright yellow toy around it’s neck, moving slowly and cautiously, and although he was not one she recognized, he looked down and actually noticed that she was there. ”Prrrow?” she questioned.  A flash of a smile crossed his face, and he crouched down to scritch behind her ears. Ah yes, this one was acceptable. Perhaps she would keep it. She scooted out from behind the pipes and rubbed his legs, enticing a quiet chuckle from his lips. “Hmm, I guess you are ok?  I thought I heard a yowl.” He murmured, rubbing one finger under her chin. This one smelled like other cats...how odd.

 

Then suddenly, he faded from view.  Also odd. She sniffed around a bit, her tail twitching. Hmm.  Well...time for a nap.

  
***  


Kenshin felt bad about tripping over the cat.  The quickly faded bruises on his knees notwithstanding, he couldn’t imagine it felt very good for poor Mochi to get tripped over.  He traded some well hoarded cigarettes the next time he had a chance for some tinned fish. It was another few days before he could coax her over to his cabin as a peace offering after his shift ended. “So sorry Mochi! You are alright, yes?  Here...I got you a treat. Please do not be mad, had to hurry, and there was another Japanese man, and ...well...Here you go.” Mochi daintily snagged one of the small tinned fish and retreated to the other end of the bunk with her bounty. By the end of the can, she apparently had forgiven him since she was back to purring and trying to wrap herself around his legs.  He obliged her by laying down on the bunk and eventually drifted off without changing or even removing his boots, purring cat donut on his chest. His last conscious thought was that perhaps he should have gotten a cat. This was a nice cat. Pity he couldn't take her with him off of the ship.

  


* * *

  


**Docks at Alexandria/ United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,**

**December 28, 1940**

 

Mochi decided that this was now her kitten-person. He was entirely too small, compared to the other people-kittens on board, and she must feed him.  He could seemingly hunt enough to bring her fish, but he had not eaten any of the rats she had left for him. Silly small red-kitten-person. Perhaps she would grace him with a proper name. If Her Person was to be hers, then he would need a good name. Red was too simple, and reminded her of Red-Bad-Person from the London. He was stupid. Stealer of food.

 

So not Red. Perhaps ‘Oro’? He makes the noise whenever he does a stupid-kitten-thing. Like tripping over her when she was in the corridor. Yes. Oro seems appropriate. It’s a noise she can make, too, so he’ll definitely know when she is scolding him. Human-kitten-persons make silly noises, and never make any sense. She’d tried to teach them proper Speak but they’re often too stupid. A few make meows back, but sometimes they say silly things like ‘Metal-bird’ when she asks where her skritches are.

 

Silly, stupid kittens. This one seems smarter at least. Maybe Oro will be able to learn proper Speak. She would never choose a stupid Person, after all.

 

Well, maybe he is a little stupid. He is putting all of the things that smell like him in a box and bag-not-for-sitting, like he is leaving! He is not allowed to leave! Mochi-Patches lives here! But he continues shoving the things in the no-sit containers. Soon he is done, and he follows the other kitten-persons out of the room and into the hallway after giving her a half-smile and a few pets. “Oro! No leaving!” She meows at him. Oro is being a stupid kitten. She hops down and slinks into the hallway.

 

They reach the sunshine-metalbird-nest. The ship isn’t rocking as much so they are at land. He is leaving! Oro, you stupid kitten! He reaches the land-ramp and starts leaving. Mochi-Patches decides that if he is going to be so obviously unable to care for himself, she has to go, too. Someone has to feed Oro, he is too skinny. Much too small.

 

She weaves quickly between person-kittens, making sure not to touch them. They’ve tried to stop her from leaving the ship before, and this time she will not be thwarted. Oro-kitten needs her, and he wont stay on the boat like a good-kitten-person. Stupid Oro.

 

Maybe she will call him Red after all.

 

* * *

 

Kenshin first realizes something is wrong when he begins unpacking his things.

 

It had been nearly three hours since the ship left, refueled and ready to return to the fleet, and then to it’s next post. He’d stayed outside, waved to the friends he made on the crew as the ship left his sight, and went to hunt down the quartermaster for his room number and orders. He’d hunted down his door, wrestled with the small, crooked key and the half-broken lock, and then left the door open as he set down his case and sea-bag to begin unpacking.

 

The first uniform was put away in the foot locker beneath the bed, when he was startled by a small noise.

 

“Mrrew?”

 

He thought for a moment that maybe there was a cat here, too. It wasn’t impossible, there were rodents everywhere that needed ratting. But this meow sounded familiar. It sounded again, and Kenshin looked around. Not under his roommate’s bed, not behind the door. He turned around to check under the desk across the room, only to find Mochi sitting peacefully on top of the other uniforms on his bed, distributing copious amounts of fur.

 

“Oro?” Mochi opened a blue eye at his startled outburst, unsympathetic to his mental breakdown. “Mochi you are supposed to be on the ship!” He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. She got up, stretched, and made herself at home on his lap. “Mochi!”

 

The cat was not deterred. Mochi curled up and appeared to be getting ready for a nap, and Kenshin was at a loss. He did not want to get rid of Mochi, and he did desire a cat (or at least company), but now there was a ship-catless ship. A long confused sigh escaped his lips. Well...tomorrow. The ship had already left, so he would ask tomorrow what he should do. First he needed to meet the other instructor that was already on site and that he was supposed to share this room with, and unpack.  He absentmindedly stroked the cat now purring on his lap. He could really use a cup of tea.

 

There was a knock on the semi-open door and Kenshin looked up.  Perhaps it was his roommate? “Hello? Is it safe to come in?” a clear tenor voice asked with a hint of curiosity and humor, “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow - sorry about the mess.”

 

Kenshin glanced around the room and wasn’t sure what mess the man was talking about, “Ah, yes.  It is fine, come in, come in,” he scrambled up, “I am just unpacking.” Much to the chagrin of Mochi, he quickly tossed a blanket over her, and tried the block the wiggling blanket from view of the doorway. “MmeRRremERre!..” Mochi muffledly objected.

 

“I’m your roommate, Green...what is that?”  he heard from behind as the man entered the room and closed the door behind him.

 

“Nothing!?”  Kenshin flushed and spun around, closing his eyes and praying to the ancestors that the cat would just stay still and be quiet. “Its…”

 

Mochi indignantly skidded out from under the blanket and onto the floor.  She yowled her irritation at Kenshin and began re-adjusting her fur with angry licks interspersed with scolding commentary.

 

“....a cat...” Kenshin finished, opening one eye and cautiously peeking at his new roommate who was still frozen in the doorway.

 

The man looked like he’d seen a ghost.  “..k..Kenshin??” he stuttered and suddenly Kenshin recognized the voice.  

 

“Henry!??....but...your hair is ...Green-san?” Kenshin blinked, and in shock, defaulted to his usual blunt self and native language, “Henry-san...you got old!”  followed a moment later by the happy exclamation, “You are alive!!”

 

Henry Green just stood there, taking in the impossible view of Kenshin - still seemingly 30 but now with short hair and standing in front of him halfway across the world from where they had last met. “You...you didn’t age a day?”

 

Green broke first, running up and capturing Kenshin in an excited embrace, “How did you end up in Egypt?”  Extending him out to arm’s length, “How did you end up in the Navy? Why are you still so young??”

 

It really was Green, just...older.  A little greyer, smile lines on his face. Still cheerful and with that slight accent to his Japanese. Kenshin beamed and laughed “Long story,” his eyes twinkling with mischief “don’t you know that Asians do not age? We just wake up old one day and become wise.”

 

Green smirks and laughs, “That explains the age, but what about the cat?”

 

“Oro,” Kenshin flushes and scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, “She followed me from the ship?  I don’t know how she got here!” He can’t help but smile and reaches out to grasp Henry’s shoulder. “It is..very good to see you.”

 

“You too, Kenshin, you too.” Henry shakes his head in disbelief, and then retreats to his own bed across the room sinking in to take a breath and figure this all out in his mind. “How...I mean...bollocks..”  he trailed off, still not thinking clearly and suffering from so many conflicting emotions.

 

Kenshin sat on his bed across from Henry and just couldn’t stop smiling.  How wonderful! Henry Green was alive, and here, and he had unwittingly adopted a cat.  This was a very good day.

 

* * *

  


**United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,**

**January/February, 1941**

 

It took very little time to fall back into their friendship.  Kenshin caught Green up on what had happened since his last letter had arrived, and they both laughed when one of Kenshin’s letters was delivered to Henry a week later.  Green seemed upset to discover his house had been destroyed, and insisted on sending his wife a letter for some news. Hopefully she had gone to her sister’s house outside of Oxford before it was too late.  He couldn’t think of anywhere else to write. Kenshin sent off his letter to Jeffrey, and told him about his aid of the recovery crews and the air raid where he had met the boy.

 

It was good to have Green back in his life.  Kenshin didn’t realize how much he had missed their conversations, and it was also good to have another person around to help hide Mochi from room inspections.  It was still a bit jarring at times to look up and see just how much his friend had aged. _It couldn’t have been that long, had it?_

 

Japanese classes went smoothly, and they fell into an easy pattern.  Kenshin also discovered that if he locked the door to the classroom after classes were done, he could usually get in a few hours of forms each week.  It was soothing to move through the rituals and habits and just empty his mind and move his body for a while. Integrating his past with his present.

 

One of the storage closets in the classroom was also an excellent place to hide his locked case.  Then he didn’t need to carry the sword back and forth to his room, and only needed to carry is clothing when it needed to be washed. It was much hotter here than in London, but at least in the evening the breeze came in from the sea, and the classroom was on the third floor, so there wasn’t much chance of someone watching him from outside.

 

Green would stay and watch sometimes, or draw on his sketch pad or correct papers.  It was good company.

 

Jeffrey’s first letter made it to them as they were heading back to classes from lunch about a month later, before Henry heard back from his wife.  Kenshin impatiently paced during the remaining lessons that day and frequently eyed the clock. When they combined classes near the end of the day for conversational practice, Henry eventually just waved him off and Kenshin quickly escaped back to their shared room to read the news.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Mr. Murrah,_

 

_I am very happy to get your letter!  I found Mary, she is here too and with another family in town._ _She said she dint, did not blev_ _She said I was fibbin when I said you were real, but I showed her the letter and now she has to take it back._

 

_The family I am staying with has loads of goats, which are pretty neat when they don’t try to eat your hair.  I have learned to feed them and help with things in the barn. The other boys here are sort of nice. I don’t like the other Jeffrey, he smells and he sneaks food, getting the rest of us in trouble._

 

_Mrs. Willshir said I should write to my parents, but I think Mum_ _didn’t make it out of the_ _I don’t know if they’re alive.  They would have come back for us right?  Mary hadn’t seen Mum either, and we staayed in the house for a week after she went out.  I send a letter anyway._

 

_Mary is helpping me with words for this letter, because she is better at writin stuff than me._

 

_They also have a mean horse and we can get to ride him some times.  His name is Merlin, and he keeps tryin to brush me off on trees, so I don’t like him much._

 

_Did you heer from your friend that you lost?  It would be no fare if I found Mary and you wer still looking._

 

_I have to go eat now._

 

_Your friend,_

 

_Jeffrey Fisher_

 

_P.S. This is Mary - are you really friends with my brother?  Are you a soldier? Our Mum said that Papa is a soldier, but we don’t know where he is.  I know my brother did not write the letter - your handwriting is better than his. I hope you find your friend. I think Jeffrey spelled your name wrong so I am going to copy it off your other letter to send back._

  


* * *

 

It was good to know that not only Kenshin had trouble spelling english words.  So many things that sounded one way and were spelled another entirely. Kenshin was very pleased to hear that Jeffrey had found his sister - he couldn’t wait to share the news with Henry!

 

Kenshin walked to the mess hall and picked up a kettle and squeezed into the back of the kitchen to heat some water.  Tea...Tea was needed. The kitchen was busy, but he had already cleared it with the head cook to make himself some tea each night.  He never smoked his cigarettes, so he had been trading those for cans of fish and scraps of meat for the cat. She seemed to appreciate his additions to her diet, but kept leaving birds and rats and things on his bed, which he was less happy about.  When they left the window cracked in the room, she could get out and walk along the ledge by the window and often escaped out for hours, only to return later and act like a diva when they weren’t paying enough attention to her.

 

Retreating back to his room with the kettle and he poured himself some tea and sat down just as Henry came back in from class.  “Henry! Good news - Jeffrey found his sister.” he gestured to the letter laying on the desk, “You can read it if you like, and there is tea.”

 

Kenshin lifted his cup to take a sip as Henry wandered over and picked up the letter, chuckling a bit as he read it over.

 

“Sounds like he is in a good place, him and his sister both.”  Henry laid the letter back on the desk, and stepped over to pour himself a cup.

 

* * *

  


**United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Egypt,**

**March 7, 1941**

  


Two weeks later Henry got the news that his wife had made it safely to her sisters home in Boars Hill, and they had a celebratory drink with some of the other instructors.  Somehow, this turns into a conversation about France when they return to their room.

 

“I still haven’t seen the Eiffel Tower...do you think it will make it through the war?”  Kenshin continued as they walked in, “I had intended to make a tour out of my visit - since you had mentioned how much you liked it there, how beautiful the city was.”

 

“I’d imagine it would…” Henry yawned, rolling onto his bed and kicking his shoes off on the floor. “It was beautiful.  Wish you had been there to see it.” he mumbled into his pillow.

 

Kenshin flopped on his bunk, startling Mochi who flicked her ears with annoyance and curled back up.  Laying with his hands behind his head, he looked over at Henry who was already snoring lightly. Kenshin just chuckled and closed his eyes, going to sleep.

 

* * *

 

**United Kingdom Mediterranean Command, Alexandria, Egypt,**

**December, 1941**

 

They hear about Pearl Harbor three hours after it happened. Japan was drawing the US into the War. That was the eighth.

 

Four days later, Green receives a telegraph. The H.M.S. Repulse had been sunk; his son was missing.

 

Afterwards, Green is given ‘leave’, which is really a week of permission to lock himself in their room. Kenshin tries his best to comfort his long time friend, but every word seems to make Henry more upset, and Kenshin wisely backs off. The absence of Green is not the only change in those few days. After the Harbor was bombed, many of his students and the other instructors seemed to go from friendly to cold in a matter of hours. He may not look typically Japanese, but pretty much everyone is familiar with his country of origin.

 

It was easier, in the beginning, to ignore the occasional remark about his nationality. It had been irritating, as expected, but easy to ignore in favor of Mochi and grading and losing to Green at poker. Now, however, there were ridiculous upstarts attempting to do everything from trip him to sabotaging his work. In an intelligent decision on Kenshin’s part, he invested in locks and resisted the urge to beat some sense into these boys with a bokken.

 

That would be counter-productive, however satisfying; since they cannot learn Japanese from Medical.

 

He spends much of the time Green is closeted in their room locked in the classroom, trying to run through forms and exercise away his problems.

 

By the end of the week, Kenshin is feeling some regret for ever having gone to London in search of his friend, but when he takes in how rough Green has been taking the news of his missing son, he knows he has to do something to help.  Heading into the city the next morning, he manages to find a place to purchase the supplies he needs, and returning to their shared room, he hands over the small box wrapped in newspaper to Henry.

 

Henry blinks, “...what is this for?”

 

“I know things have been difficult.  And...I remembered this helped before, so I am..” he shakes his head - too many words.  “Just open it. It’s for you.” Kenshin sits beside Henry.

 

After a moment Henry tears open the parcel, and then slowly opens it to reveal a set of paints and brushes.

 

“I couldn’t find any watercolors...Sorry.  I mean - I know I’m not as good at comforting you as you were..”

 

Kenshin’s self recriminating murmuring is cut off by Henry’s arms around him.  “Thank you. I know I’m not good company right now. But this means a lot. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

**United Kingdom support of Pacific Fleet,  Coastwatch station, April 21, 1945**

 

How had he been convinced to volunteer for this?  Oh yeah, it was Green.

 

Kenshin drank some burnt coffee, grimaced visibly at the taste, and then took another swig.  Only another hour to go of this shift, and they could pass this station off to Andre. Somehow, they had ended up on this awful assignment, pretty much in the middle of nowhere on this island besides one American and one Kiwi radio operator and the occasional supply personnel, relaying information on Japanese movements in the area.  He listened to the radio with half his attention and lifted the binoculars again. _Just birds…_ Other than the six Japanese planes yesterday and the submarine a week ago, it had been suspiciously quiet of anything worth reporting.  The operation must be going well.

 

He misses teaching. It was less irritating. And boring. There are only so many ways you can run around an island.  And he misses Mochi. _Williams better be taking good care of her._

 

Beside him, the American man sneezed. Kenshin hadn’t bothered to learn his name - Burns or Barns or something with a b. The only things that had come out of the idiot’s mouth were racist and sexist slurs. Directed mostly towards Kenshin himself.

 

If he had his Sakabatou on this miserable island… but no. Kenshin was, outwardly, far more patient than that. He’d smiled and given the man a serving of his own medicine; not that the idiot _gaikokújin_ had been intelligent enough to realize the rurouni had implied he lacked skill in bed, among other things. That would require a brain.

 

Kenshin looked at his cup, startled at his crass thoughts and actions in the past few days. _Was it the coffee or bad weather?_ Either way, he wasn’t proud of them...but he probably wouldn’t apologize.

 

At least he didn’t still get this type of thing from most of the British troops he had worked with anymore.  Now that it was just him, Green and the two others stuck on this island..well, only Green was British. He was Japanese, the other was an American, and there was a kind Frenchman from New Zealand that somehow made delicious food out of the tasteless MREs.

So technically, three from British or Commonwealth forces and one American.  Hopefully the replacements would be here to take over the station soon. It was only supposed to have been a stopgap assignment. You would think after his support of intelligence operations for the British and his assistance with special assignments in Egypt and India, he would have picked going back to the school- but no, he just had to follow Green around and make sure he didn’t get himself shot.

 

If not for Green, who had requested he volunteer so the Englishman would have some well-known company, Kenshin wouldn’t be on this desolate rock in the middle of the ocean. And he was planning to hold it over the man’s head for the rest of this awful secret posting.  

 

Kenshin looked to the side when Andre, the French-New Zealander, walked in from the squeaky doorway to the small ‘kitchen,’ which was really just a metal table and two long benches bolted to the ground in a dark room with small “windows” (really just openings in the wall) and an old stove. The faint sound of Tokyo Rose cut out as the door swung shut again. Andre gave him a jokingly flirty wink, making Kenshin chuckle and flash him a smile.

 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.  “Is the barrel back up?”

 

Andre nodded, “Oui, It is wedged in pretty well, so hopefully it will not come loose again.”

 

They had rigged a set of barrels to catch rainwater, and used tubing to run water into the “window” in the kitchen.  A clamp prevented water from running all the time and emptying the barrel, but it was fairly simple to unclamp the end of the tubing and get some water to cook or wash things with. Well, as long as they had rain.  Bathing was done primarily outside in the inlet from the sea.

 

Besides the “kitchen” they just had the room with the radio equipment and cots.  If they weren't on duty, most of the time they were outside, in Kenshin’s case trying to keep up on forms and stay fit.  Sometimes they would play cards in the kitchen and listen to the other radio, or sleep. Kenshin had also managed to make himself a bokken, to keep up his practice.  Green had a wide range of tiny figurines carved from local wood, which he said he could trade or keep to give his family when he returned to London. The only redeeming factor of the American (in Kenshin’s mind at least) was he was a decent fisherman, and frequently they had fresh fish to supplement their supplies.

 

The last hour of his shift passed quickly, and Kenshin gratefully handed his radio off to Andre, heading into the kitchen to dump out the last of his coffee.  It was actually sunny and warm today. Stripping as much of his uniform as he could get away with, Kenshin headed down the faint path to small inlet near the shoreline.  Unsurprisingly, Henry was there, floating around on his stomach on his tethered “raft” and reading a book. The raft had been a joint effort of Henry and Andre. Both seemed obsessed with swimming.

 

Deciding to have a little fun, Kenshin darted silently into the undergrowth beside the path, and circled around out of the view of Green. The trees and plants grew almost all the way to the waterline.  Carefully shifting over the rocks and sand and into the water, he slipped underneath and swam over to the raft. At the last moment, while springing out of the water “Raarrrgh!” Kenshin yelled.

 

Flailing, Green dropped his book and rolled into the water with a splash.  Grabbing a hold of the side of the raft closest to him Kenshin tried to keep above water while laughing so hard it was difficult to breathe.  Henry popped back up to the surface at about the same time with a gasp and a splash back at Kenshin “You could have drowned me!! He spluttered, half amused and half angry.   “My book!” He quickly pulled himself back up onto the flat surface and examined it for water damage. “Kenshin!” he glared at the still laughing man, the corner of his mouth twitching a bit “You know I can’t replace this with another one!”

 

Kenshin pulled himself up beside Henry and flopped onto his back while Henry grumbled and held on to the rocking raft. Enjoying the sunshine and trying to catch his breath, Kenshin continued, “Ah...but you have read it already, yes?”  He grinned saucily, shifting up onto his side and elbow and resting his head on one hand, his eyes were half-lidded against the sunshine and his too long for regulation hair dripping. Green just pushed him back over and into the water.

 

* * *

  


**United Kingdom support of Pacific Fleet,  coastwatch station, May 8th, 1945**

 

The days continued to get warmer, interspersed by episodes of torrential rain.  One such rainy day Andre bursts into the radio room from the kitchen, fairly bursting at the seams “‘The Germans ‘as been defeated!!  They ‘ave declared victory in Europe!”

 

After a moment of stunned silence Brown jumped up “Whoopee!! We’ll get to go home!” almost simultaneously to Green’s “Hazzah!!”  

 

Kenshin blinks a few times and smiles wryly “We should celebrate the victory of our allies, but that does not mean the war here is over.”

 

Green shot him a glance and sank back into his cot, “Bugger- well...true.” He grimaced, “But hopefully our replacements will still be arriving soon.  Less to send to Europe - so we should get more support here?”

 

Andre just frowned at them, “No, you must cheer up - At least there is an end in sight!”

 

Broom snorted, drawing their attention back to him, “I don’t know about all of you, but I think we deserve to drink some rations.” He pointed to the corner where they had been hoarding the rum and beer. “Our side wins Europe - that's the war half over at least, right?  Let’s celebrate!”

 

Andre props open the kitchen door with a chair and turns the radio up so they can hear it clearly.  Henry looks at Kenshin, as he stands and stretches, “We should signal for confirmation, don’t you think?  It could be some ploy to get us to let down our guard.”

 

Kenshin grins, cocking his head “Ah, but at least we would have some fun before we die, yes?

 

Green smirks and smacks him on the shoulder as he walks by and then out the front door of the shelter.  His voice calls back faintly through the open door and over the sound of the radio from the other room, “I’m not fishing or cleaning them!”

 

Chuckling, Kenshin turns back to the radio and waves one had in Andre and Brand’s direction “I’ll take this shift and radio it in.  You guys sort out who will fish and cook.”

 

Eyeing Brook with a challenge, Andre asks, “Paper scissors rock?” The two men get into a game of flashing hands, punctuated by cheers and groans as one or the other wins a round.  

 

Kenshin has already turned to the telegraph, and is tapping out his inquiry to confirm the announcement from the radio.  

 

Andre victoriously went out to fish, and Banri headed into the kitchen to dig through ration packs.

 

* * *

 

Confirmation arrived shortly, and so that evening, when the weather had finally cleared a bit, they all met up at the beach, taking some down time.  Kenshin had helped haul some of the rum down and set it in a rock pool to cool. Burns was poking impatiently at the fish, and Andre had made something with beans.  Settling in around the low fire in their cove as the food finished up, Kenshin passed out bottles of rum they’d been saving and bowls of beans and they toasted Victory in Europe!  

 

A few drinks in, and the fish were done.  Baker tried to pass it out to everyone and semi successfully avoided dropping any of it into the fire.  Andre burst out laughing when Green tried to take a bite straight off of his fish, burning his mouth and swearing.  Everyone else started laughing when Andre fell off his log.

 

Andre pulled himself back up, blushing and still laughing.  He almost slid off the log again when he tried to sit down without looking.  

 

Henry snorted, “Alllright...all of you.  I am going….to go be the responsssible one.  Radio duty….Enjoy food,” he toasted them. He wandered up the path toward the shelter, still holding his fish on a stick and his mostly empty bottle of rum.

 

Kenshin grinned and watched him go, but it wasn’t long before Barber was on his nerves again, so he excused himself and staggered his own way back up to the cots, singing old drinking songs under his breath.

 

Green waved at him as he entered with his half-remaining fish, and Kenshin collapsed onto his cot, quickly falling asleep.

  


* * *

  


He was awakened suddenly, and for a moment thought he was back in the war...the original one.  He could hear someone screaming a challenge in Japanese and the cling of metal against something hard.  Long habit had him rolling from his bed and picking up his bokken, his mind still a bit foggy from drinking after so long sober.  He swore realizing that this was not his sword but just the practice blade he had with him.

 

Andre was shouting something outside and he heard a gunshot as Green ran out with his rifle. Kenshin flipped himself forward through the window, rather than going through the door, the only exit to the building and potentially getting shot as he went out.  Landing in a low crouch with one hand down in front of him and the sword held out to his side he tried to take stock of the situation.

 

Andre was fighting hand to hand with one soldier - probably Japanese.  Two still forms were on the ground, Green was aiming his rifle into the trees and partially crouched for cover.  Another shot rang out, not from Green, and Kenshin spun around in time to see Bruce get shot in the chest and stagger back, dropping his own gun to the ground.

 

Kenshin sprang forward, striking the gunman across the throat with the wooden blade, just enough force to put him down, unable to breathe.  He continued his path, thrusting his sword into the solar plexus of one soldier, and twirled aside, avoiding a shot from the second man coming out of the treeline.  He kicked sand up into his face, and and as the man spluttered, Kenshin slid into a half crouch and swept him to the ground with his leg. With the stranger now on the ground, it doesn’t take much to knock him out.

 

Unfortunately, the man who had been hit in the solar plexus had had time to recover, and Kenshin felt a bullet graze the side of his head about the same time as the shot rang out, momentarily deafening him. He hissed, stumbling slightly to the side as he started to turn back to his attacker.  His ears recovered from their ringing in time for him to hear another shot, this one from the direction Green had been in, and the thump of a body hitting the ground behind him.

 

Andre finally took down his attacker, and Kenshin had just enough time to make note of those remaining.  His eyes widened, and he tried to call out a warning to Green - when the flash of a gun from the trees and a splatter of blood where Henry’s knee had been shifted everything into slow motion.  

 

Growling his defiance and anger, Kenshin threw his bokken across the small clearing end over end -  striking the gunman in the face, who fell backward to the ground.

 

Kenshin was already running forward after his blade when he realized he had thrown his only weapon, and he slowed to scoop one of the discarded guns off the ground, only to be suddenly stabbed in the back from one of the soldiers he had though already down.

 

Crying out and with a very painful twist, Kenshin wrenched the knife out of the man’s hands with his shoulder.  Still grasping the gun he had retrieved, he attempted to bring it up to bear - only to watch in surprise as the man was suddenly yanked away by a thick grey rope of some kind.

 

Green swearing more profusely then he ever had caused Kenshin’s attention to waiver.  Turning quickly to make sure his friend was not under further attack, he hissed at the pull of the blade still buried in his shoulder and staggered over.  Green was clutching at his bloody leg and rolling around in pain where he had fallen. Kenshin quickly sank to his knees and put pressure on the leg above the wound.  “Andre!” he yelled, trying to get some help, but the man who ran up wasn’t Andre - it was the Japanese not-instructor who had fallen on him on the ship.

 

Kenshin started to scramble up to defend when the man dropped to his knees and began to wrap a tourniquet around Henry’s leg.  

 

Kenshin sank back down and helped hold him still and calm him down.  “Henry..you’re going to be fine! We’ve got you Henry. You did it, they’re all gone…”  

 

Henry growled back, his teeth gritting together “Araahahhgh, stupid ….ahh...Almost shot you.”  

 

The black haired man looked up at Kenshin with dark eyes through his yellow goggles, “I’ve got him, assess the others - critical wounds?”

 

Kenshin had looked up to find Andre when the man in question dropped down beside him, holding his arm limp at his side. The other hand holding a pistol that he hadn’t had before. “That’s all of them.  Empty boat on the coastline near the bonfire.”

 

Kenshin frowned, eyes narrowing, “What about the American.”

 

“Can’t help those already dead.” Andre replied flatly, then frowned at Aizawa, “Who’s this?”

 

“Someone want to grab me additional bandages?” was the man’s accented reply as he was still doing first aid on Henry’s knee, injecting what was probably Morphine into the thigh above the wound.  Henry somewhat relaxed and groaned softly.

 

“A friend.” Kenshin momentarily met the not-instructor’s eyes, still holding Green’s leg still and trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder and the warmth running down his arm.  He felt the world tilt a bit as the adrenaline began to ebb. He staggered to his feet intending to collect a first aid kit, a bit dizzy, only to have the mystery man swear.

 

Andre cried out “Himura!” as the world faded into black.

 

\------ END OF PART 1 - INTERMISSION.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is far longer than we meant it to be, and it still didn't end up where we wanted :/ Remember when I said this would be the last chapter before the meat of the crossover? Well, I didn't technically lie lmao
> 
> In other news, we realized we only beat the shit out of Kenshin when he's sloppy drunk. Take note, children. And for those of you who expecting art this chapter...
> 
>  
> 
> ...I'm Lazy. *Yeets away*
> 
> -pop


	7. End of an Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a dark and stormy night...Oh, sorry, wrong story! LLewtwo continues to be terrible at summaries.
> 
> Popjeckdoom says:
> 
> Kenshin begins a career in babysitting and adopts a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is LLewtwo. Yes, this is again later than I wanted to post. RL has been crazy, not terrible, just busy. 
> 
> Also - the chapter we were working on ended up being too long, and I thought it was covering too much time, so I finally got popjeckdoom to allow me to cut it in half. So - here it is :) 
> 
> This is mostly an interlude chapter between action/places/time-periods, but we hope you like it! Please comment and let us know what you think!
> 
> And....sorry...for the end...yeah...

**September 21, 1945, London, England**

 

Kenshin was cold; although, he was sure that was just because he was a small, Japanese man outside on a drizzly London morning. He should have borrowed a coat. He thought briefly of escaping the unpleasant weather and heading inside the hospital, but he’d escaped and didn’t feel like risking capture once again. The nurses may seem nice, but they hid steely demons behind bedside manner, smiles, and needles.

 

He shivered, and not because of the cold.

 

So much had happened in the last few months.  In the last month it seemed even more. Everything he had known had potentially come to an end.  It was hard to take it all in.

 

Absently, Kenshin watched the hospital entrance, pulling his uniform coat a bit tighter and trying ignore the the wind.  A nurse stood beside the door, talking to someone in an Army uniform and smoking a cigarette. She had black hair.

 

Actually, she looked a bit like the nurse he had met on the hospital ship.  Betty. He had awakened disoriented and sure he needed to grab more bandages.  She had pushed him back on the bed and told him to be still. He had evidently been asleep for a day and a half and was healing well. It wasn’t until he calmed down that she left to let someone else know he was awake.  The doctor would be by in a few to take his stitches out.

 

First a Commander Bennett had come in and questioned him about his memory of the events of the attack - he had explained what he knew of what happened, the Japanese attacking after he had gone to sleep on the night of the celebration, Green on radio duty.  He reported seeing Brown get shot (he really hoped his real name was Brown); Green take a shot to the knee, and that he had been stabbed at some point. He mentioned seeing the mystery friend come again to their aid, Andre saying something about a bonfire, and blacking out.  

 

He hadn’t thought he had been that injured. 

 

Bennett dove a bit more into what Kenshin knew about the bonfire, who the Friend was, what he looked like, how had he gotten onto the island, when Kenshin had seen him before.  Still a bit foggy, Kenshin answered as well as he could. He added his suspicion that the man who aided them may be working for military intelligence. After a while, the man left, and Betty came back inside with a doctor who said he would remove the stiches.

 

He learned from her that he was on an American hospital ship, and Green was also on board, just a few curtains over, but still sleeping most of the time.  He had undergone surgery for his knee, but still had the possibility of losing the leg, depending on how well it healed and if he ended up with any infection…but he wouldn’t find that out until later.  

 

After a brief examination of his injuries, she wrote some stuff on a clipboard and stepped back out.  She had let him know as she left that she thought he could be moved into the main bunks.

 

He shifted and could feel that his back and shoulder twinged only a little, so that was probably almost completely healed.  He could see a few new scars, but otherwise, he was back to normal. How long had he been out again? And where was his shirt?

 

Perhaps that was why it was on is mind again.  He was cold. He realized he was staring at the nurse when she smiled and waved.  Oro! He quickly looked away. And now he looked like a flustered teenager.

 

A few hours later on the ship he had freshly removed stitches and had been assigned a temporary bunk in a room with some other British military personnel.  He was surprised to discover that his bag and wooden case had been collected by someone (Andre maybe?) and had made it onto the ship with him. He had spent the next few weeks mostly sitting by Green’s side, and helping the nurses get things they couldn't reach?  Odd how many supplies were shoved into cabinets above their heads.

 

Green complained a lot when he was awake, and Kenshin read him letters and books and talked to him in his smattering of bad French and Japanese.  Andre had been stationed back with their replacements on the miserable island. The American...B...something? Hadn’t made it.

 

Kenshin should have made more of an effort to learn his real name.  Kaoru would have been disappointed with him, although Sanoske would probably laugh.

 

From what he could tell, their rescuer had not been found on the island, and Green was absolutely certain he had faded right in front of his eyes into nothing.  Kenshin was skeptical. Probably morphine hallucinations or something.

 

After a while on board and transfer to another ship, they were back in London.  Kenshin had been poked and prodded a bit since the medical staff were amazed he had healed so quickly, but he managed to convince them his injuries must not have been as bad as they had originally reported.

 

_‘That. Supid. Yellow. Pouch.’_ Years and years later and he was pretty sure many things could be blamed on eating the unknown.  

 

This past month, the country of his birth had been bombed, killing so many it was unfathomable.  ‘ _I am still alive and yet so many others have died_.’  Was the damage as bad there as London had been, as it still was?  It must have been worse, so many more had lost their lives with just two bombs.  Two thriving cities completely leveled by the Americans. People had celebrated Victory over Japan...but he did not feel much like celebrating. He had managed to force himself out to the edge of the city after a week of drinking himself insensible, and had run out into a copse of trees and had sat until sunset, trying to regain his sense of self.  

 

He could not allow himself to fall apart over this.  There were people here who still needed...well at least wanted him around.

 

His mind shied from the road his thoughts were on, and his eyes returned to the hospital entrance and the present moment. The nurse must have gone back indoors.

 

There are however things _worth_ celebrating.  Green had been taken to the hospital here for additional surgery and to recover, and today...today he should be getting out - which was how Kenshin found himself sitting outside in the almost rain.  Waiting.

 

Perhaps he should go find him after all.  The wind which had originally been almost pleasant, was slowly causing the drizzle to soak through his clothes. It was making it difficult to enjoy being outside.

 

Just as he was about to give up, A man was wheeled out of the hospital doors by a different nurse, and Kenshin stood, meeting Henry’s eyes.  “Well old man,” he smiled as he walked up to them, “seems they let you go after all.”

 

Henry smirked, “Old? You’re at least as old as me, Kenshin.”  He waved the nurse off, explaining that Kenshin would get him where he needed to go.  Kenshin laughed and promised to keep him out of trouble.

 

Having returned to London and the war now being officially over, it was mostly cleanup and re-building to be done, including Henry’s house.  

 

Henry was on medical leave from the Navy, but Kenshin had been provided some letters of commendation and discharged, along with being provided a recommendation to Oxford of his teaching skills.  Surprisingly, since his identity papers naming him a British citizen had been “lost” in the war, Maxwell had provided him with a new “copy” proclaiming he was born overseas to british parents in 1921.  Kenshin had snorted at that, but had taken them anyway. Easier than trying to explain the contents of his Japanese papers.

 

Kenshin had been surprised to discover that Henry’s family had quite a bit of money, and so the Greens had decided to build closer to this Boar Hill town where his wife’s sister had a home.  His wife and younger children would stay in the country until the house had been completed and they could move in.

 

As Kenshin began pushing Henry toward the station, he told him about his opportunity.  “So, I have been offered a teaching position.”

 

Henry looked up at him “Where at?  English? Japanese?”

 

Kenshin’s lips quirked in a wry smile, “Well, history apparently.  Perhaps Japanese culture and language in time. Maxwell from the India missions pulled in a favor to get me placed with a university.”

 

Henry snorted and re-adjusted the cane on his lap, “Well you saved his life in out there, along with most of his men, he owes you a million favors.”

 

Kenshin simply shrugged and stayed silent.

 

“First, we should celebrate!  You will be a teacher, and I’ll hopefully be out of this chair in a few months!”  

 

“Yes,” Kenshin said dryly, “I get more behind desks, and you’ll live the cushy life up in Boar Hill.” Henry laughed.

 

* * *

 

**Oxford, England   - March 18, 1946**

 

Kenshin was wiping the board down after one of his lectures when Green burst into the room past the last of his exiting students, hobbling faster than he should be on his cane.  “Kenny! Peter is alive!!” He grabbed Kenshin’s arms and started dancing around in a limping circle of happiness, “I got a letter, he’s coming home Kenshin, he’s coming home!”

 

Kenshin beamed, “That’s great news! When are you expecting him home? We can take him out for drinks.” Green seemed delighted by the idea, and waved his wife over as she, far more sedately, Paul trailing behind her and clinging to one hand, strode through the classroom door.

 

“Oh, any day now,” he said, “Helen has the letter, look here..”

 

“Hello again Kenny.” Helen smiled at the impatient shifting of her husband, and handed the letter to Henry before allowing her youngest son to wander over to draw with chalk on the board. Kenshin had _almost_ gotten used to Henry calling him by that name, but with anyone else it was still a bit uncomfortable.

 

“Helen!  Good news all around?” Kenshin reached out for the letter that Henry now had.  Skimming it over, he flashed a bright grin at them both “Excellent news! Will he fully recover?  Did they say?”

 

Helen nodded, “We are told his hearing has suffered, but he should otherwise fully recover,” she reached out and re-claimed the letter, pointing out the relevant passage, “Seems he had some memory loss for a while, but we are glad to get him back!”

 

By this point Paul had been lifted onto his father's shoulders to reach higher on the chalkboard.  Henry was attempting to hold his son up and still stabilize himself with the cane, and they were making a complete mess of the board Kenshin had just cleaned.  Kenshin watched them and sighed.

 

Helen chuckled, “Alright boys, time to go. Mr. Himura is busy preparing for his next lecture!”

 

“Thank you!”  he mouthed silently to Helen.  She smiled and nodded and ushered the complaining boys out the door.

 

Eyeing the new drawing and then the clock, Kenshin got back to wiping the board down.  If he hurried, he would still have time to grab tea before the next group came in.

 

* * *

 

**Boars Hill, England   - December 25, 1948**

 

Kenshin sat as close to the fire as he possibly could.  He still didn't like winter, although he enjoyed the holiday season with all the gatherings.  Green’s two younger boys, James and Paul, were impatiently poking at parcels under the tree, and Helen was yelling out the back door for Henry to “Leave it and come inside before you catch your death!”

 

Kenshin could hear a garbled response from outside, and then Henry came in the back door trailing snow and carrying a bunch of wood.  “...better now then later.” Henry finished whatever he had been saying. He carried the wood inside, leaving wet footprints from the door, through the kitchen and into the living area; then dropping them on the rest of the wood near the fireplace.  His steps were accompanied by his wife scolding him for staying outside too long and traipsing muddy snow over her clean floor. Kenshin just stood up and grabbed a cloth, mopping it up while Henry joked and Helen scolded. Helen turned around and started scolding him for cleaning when he was a guest, and snagged the cloth from him, continuing back into the kitchen.  Kenshin just blinked and looked at Henry, who shrugged and grinned.

 

Someone interrupted their almost conversation when the front bell pull rang and Paul ran over into the entry to answer the door.  “It’s just Peter and some Lady,” he yelled over his shoulder.

 

Peter laughed and came in the door, taking off his coat and handing it to his brother, a fashionable brunette haired woman at his side.  Peter then turned to help her with her coat, and they both came into the living room. Kenshin walked back over to sit in the chair closest to the fireplace while Henry walked over to greet them, and Helen came out of the Kitchen to see who it was.  

 

“Peter!  And who is this?  When you said you would be bringing a guest, you didn’t say it would be someone so lovely.” Helen took the woman’s extended hand and Anna blushed, flicking her eyes to Peter.

 

“Well Mum, this is Anna.  My fiancé.” He beamed at Anna who smiled back at him, and then he laughed at the stunned expression on his mother’s face.  “Mum...you ok Mum?”

 

Helen broke out of her momentary shock and exclaimed, “Fiancé??  Peter! You didn’t...Anna! So good to meet you! I must look a fright! Come come, you can help me finish up in the Kitchen and we can get to know each other.”

 

Anna just nodded shyly and Peter smiled to her reassuringly as she was escorted into the kitchen with an endless stream of commentary from Helen.

 

                                                                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The meal was excellent, and after all the introductions were out of the way, it was announced that gifts would now be exchanged.  Paul scrambled out to the tree, James hurried and tried to look like he wasn’t just as interested as his younger brother, and the adults followed more leisurely.  

 

Kenshin claimed a seat right in front of the fire, on the floor.  Henry just chuckled at him and sat in the chair Kenshin usually sat in.  

 

Anna and Helen were already fast friends, and sat chatting about wedding plans while Peter handed out gifts to his brothers.

 

Peter ended up with a new sweater.  His fiance had already been given a pearl bracelet that Helen had insisted on gifting to her.  And Kenshin had a new Jacket. It seems that Henry still didn’t think he could reliably dress himself.   Henry got some new paint brushes and another sweater, Helen got a broach and a new hat. Paul and James also got sweaters and pocket-knives.  

 

“Paul, your knife belonged to your namesake before he died, my brother.  James, your knife was mine during the first war. Both of you take care of them, and they’ll work well for you.”  

 

Kenshin went to grab the last two boxes and handed them over to the younger boys himself, since they were from him.  Impatiently Paul jumped up in front of James, who shoved him a little and stood, again like a typical teenager trying to look like he wasn’t that interested.  Handing them each one long rectangular box, Kenshin went and sat again near the fire.

 

The boys quickly pulled the string loose and opened the boxes, each pulling out a handmade bokken, similar to the one Kenshin had made himself on the island.

 

“Bully!” exclaimed Paul with an immediate “Language!” from Helen.  

 

“Sorry, Mum.” He muttered, swinging it around. James simply gazed at it like it was made of gold.

 

“What are they?” Peter asked, leaning forward in his seat. “Wooden swords?”

 

“Bokken,” Kenshin said, smiling, “Practice swords. I had my first actual sword when I was a bit younger than Paul, six I believe, but I had thought dear Helen would no longer allow me in the house and I would miss her cooking.” Henry laughed boisterously, and Helen reached down to smack Kenshin’s head like an unruly child.

 

“Practice swords?” Paul breathed in awe. “Does that mean you’ll teach us, Uncle Kenshin?”

 

“Teach us?” James looked like he wanted to scoff, but refrained for fear of his mother’s wrath. “Uncle is a _history_ teacher, Paul.”

 

Kenshin laughed, “I’ve been a swordsman far longer than a teacher.” There was a choking sound that emerged from his laughter, “Ah, my master would sooner imagine me a potter.”

 

“He taught me Japanese you know,” Henry told them again for the hundredth time, “And I used to watch him practice, it was rather scary.”

 

“We know!” exclaimed Paul, obviously mimicking James’s earlier tone, rolling his eyes a bit. “And besides, Uncle Kenshin isn’t scary.”

 

Kenshin nearly spit out his drink, briefly thinking of how the many who knew him as Battousai would react to that. “Ah, I was, once.” He laughed it off, thinking Kaoru would have been pleased to hear Paul defend him.  

 

Kenshin showed both of them some basic stances and a simple strike, and sent them bundled up out into the yard to hit each other through their many layers.

 

Helen stole Anna again to clean up after the meal, and Henry poured the three remaining men a brandy and shuffled them off to the study, being the only room in the house that Helen would let him smoke.

 

“Were you really only six when you learned the sword?”  Henry asked as he sat and lit himself a cigarette. Kenshin wrinkled his nose at the smell and nodded. Peter took his drink and sat with his good ear toward them both so he could better participate in the conversation.

 

“Around there,” he waved a hand, “I don’t know exactly how old, but Sensei assumed that’s how old I was.”

 

“Wait, Dad -”, mused Peter, “If Kenshin is the one who taught you Japanese, wasn’t that around...11 or 12 years before the start of the war?  I mean, this war. After the first one?”

 

Henry nodded, and then frowned. “It is no fair how young you look, Kenny,” he grumbled.

 

Kenshin laughed and grinned at his friend, “Ah well, you know -”

 

“‘I’m Asian,’ yes, so you keep saying.” Interjected Henry, seeming put upon. “But how old are you _really?_ Saito said you had been at the shrine for at least a decade before I got there.”

 

Peter looked surprised, “A _decade?_ What were you, ten?”

 

“Oro, no.  When I was 10 I was fighting in the first war.” Kenshin recalled, “No, I was twelve.” he corrected himself, lifting a finger into the air. Henry and Peter looked incredulously at each other.

 

_“Twelve?”_  Henry looked appalled, “In the First War?” Remembering the Englishman's stories of trenches and gas and screams in the night; dragged out of him over numerous bottles of sake and _a lot_ of soba and udon, Kenshin also looked appalled.

 

“Oro! No, not the World War,” Kenshin shook his head, “I skipped that one. _My_ first war, the Revolution.”

 

“You skipped that one?” Henry asked blankly as Peter exclaimed, “The Colonist Insurrection?!”

 

Kenshin laughed, and Paul looked embarrassed. “Not the Insurrection,” Kenshin giggled, “I’m not _that_ old.” Paul looked relieved, but then Kenshin continued. “The _Meiji_ Restoration, in the Bakumatsu.”

 

It was Henry, now, who looked baffled. “‘The End...of the Military?” He shook his head, “I can’t be translating that right.”

 

Kenshin patted his friend’s arm, “No you are.”

 

Kenshin’s professor persona kicked in, “The Bakkumatsu is the force who fought on the side of the Emperor toward restoration of the Empire, against the Shogunate.  Many young swordsman were part of their forces, not just myself. I fought for them for two years before the war and four years during it as Hitokiri, before changing to the sakabatou.” He then realized that he had perhaps said more than he had intended. This brandy...

 

It was Henry’s turn to nearly spit out his drink. “Hitokiri?  Manslayer?”

 

Kenshin flinched. “Please Henry, I am not that man, anymore.” He lifted his cup again, perhaps inadvisably given his history of getting stabbed while drunk, and huffed into it. “You act like you don’t know me better than even Sensei did.”

 

“Wait, wait.”  Peter lifted a hand, still trying to decipher the conversation interspersed with random Japanese words.  “Wait.” He pointed at Kenshin “Uncle Kenshin.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You fought in a war, as an...assassin?  Am I gathering that correctly?”

 

“Oro, yes,” Kenshin looked abashed, “I was young and perhaps stupid. The cause was worthwhile, but my commanders’ preferred methods...”

 

“You can’t be that old.  Wasn’t the Meiji restoration in the 1860s?”

 

“I am As- “ Kenshin started

 

“Don’t say Asian, Uncle Kenny!“

 

“I was very young,”  he said instead, standing for a moment and refilling his brandy.

 

Henry looked like his world was crumbling around him, “How...how young, exactly?”

 

Kenshin hummed, “Well, the war started when I was...twelve? I became a hitokiri around fourteen, and I met my wife a year a later when she was sent to kill me,” he paused, considering. “Oro, I do not think that is a normal way to meet your wife.”

 

Peter looked green, most likely thinking of his own fiancé. Henry hesitantly waved for him to continue. Kenshin obliged with, “Then we got married, and she died when..oro, I was sixteen? My memory is not perfect…” He shook his head, “I stopped fighting around two years later, and began wandering. The war ended when I was about eight-teen?”

 

“Eighteen.” Henry said flatly. “In the eighteen sixties.”

 

“How old were you, Father dearest?” Peter asked with a smirk. Henry leveled his son with the stink-eye.

 

“How old do you think I am?” The Englishman shook his head, and refilled his glass with a liberal amount of brandy. “I think my parents hadn’t even _met_ at that point.”

 

Peter turned skeptically to his Uncle, “This is you, right?  Not your grandfather or something?”

 

“Yes,” Kenshin said, deadpan, “I think I would remember _not_ being in the Restoration.”

 

Blinking, Peter continued, “So - ah, you are...ancient.  Wait - that was the _first_ war?”

 

Kenshin nodded, perplexed, “Yes? I fought in the Sino-Japanese wars - both of them.  You have sat in on some of my lectures, I am sure you remember.”

 

“Those were - ?” Peter looked at his father, who looked at his brandy like it held the secrets of the universe.

 

“The eighteen _nineties,”_ he answered faintly.

 

“In my forties,” Kenshin confirmed, and then looked confused, “that can’t be right..”

 

Deciding that his mind must be faulty, he started counting on his fingers in Japanese. Both men watched him still a bit disbelieving, when he suddenly announced a bit too loud comparative to the rest of the conversation, “Damn Yellow Pouch!” Both of the other men startled.

 

“...yellow pouch?” Peter was looking a lot like his father at this point.

 

“Yellow Pouch,” Kenshin confirmed, and the capital letters were clear. _“Banilla.”_ It was said like a curse.

 

“Hmm, the one you carried around in your case?”  Henry asked.

 

“Yes.” Kenshin confirmed.  “I was badly injured in a fight…” he glanced at his glass, “Well, after drinking a good deal.  When I awakened, my wounds had been tended to, and the pouch was there - filled with a too-sweet food.”

 

He shook his head, almost talking to himself, “I am unsure if it really is responsible, but it seems I have always healed very quickly since then.”

 

“So….Ambrosia?” Peter coughed, laughing a bit.

 

Kenshin frowned at his nephew, still somewhat in professor mode, “Wrong culture.”

 

Downing the last of his current glass of brandy, Henry spoke up, “You were in your 70’s when we met?”

 

“Oro, If my math is correct,” Kenshin looked mildly upset. “I’m _old_.”

 

“A right geezer,” Peter muttered. His father swatted him.

 

“I don’t care how old you are.  I am definitely older.” Henry declared.

 

“Well, I am Asian.  Besides.  My new papers say I am only twenty-seven!”

 

Peter snorted.  “My Uncle can’t be _my_ age!”

 

Henry smacked the back of Peter’s head again.

 

* * *

  


**Oxford, England, St. Leonard’s Church,  Spring 1998**

 

The day was warm in the sunlight, even this early in the morning. Kenshin took in a deep breath, appreciating the smell of morning dew and the newly bloomed flowers around him. As he let it out in an exaggerated manner, he chuckled.

 

“Ah, it’s beautiful today, Henry.” A glance to the side where his friend rested, but no reply. “I think even my lazier students might be out and about today.”

 

He sat down on a wooden bench, careful to avoid the remaining wet spot from yesterday’s rainy spell. He was acting old now, wasn’t he? Wasn’t this what old people did? Sit in the sun, talk to old friends. He had enjoyed days like this long before now; finding simple pleasures had been one of the highlights of his life, especially after the Bakumatsu and the following years of wandering. Now, in the quiet churchyard not far from Boars Hill, Kenshin sat beside the resting place of Henry and his wife, and basked in the early morning sunshine.

 

“You’re turning into a right proper Englishman, Uncle.” Kenshin turned to lay eyes on an old man, who walked up to his bench. It was Paul, Henry’s youngest son, and the only one of his siblings to master Kendo. “Talking to Dad, again?”

 

“Yes,” Kenshin smiled at his ‘nephew’. “I feel like I need to update him sometimes, but this will likely be my last visit for a while.” He nodded at the gravestones of Paul’s parents, which were side-by-side.

 

“Thinking of taking that job at the private school? The one by Westminster?” Paul asked. Kenshin quickly tried to wipe the remaining water off the bench and slid over to make room, and Paul lowered himself slowly, sitting beside him with a grunt. “You’d be paid less, and Oxford has already said you’re welcome to stay.”

 

“Oro,” Kenshin patted his nephew’s leg, “I think I’ll come back to Oxford in a while, but for now, I’d like to deal with stuck up children that are actually children.” Paul chuckled. Carefully, he handed the large manilla envelope he’d been carrying over to Kenshin.

 

“That’s the new birth certificate and such,” Paul said, “I had our friend in the Offices make up a national insurance number card and an application for dual citizenship. In case you want to put it through.”

 

The rurouni thought for a moment, but finally replied, “I don’t know that I’ll go back to Japan anytime soon, but I’ll consider it.” He looked at his nephew, who seemed, for a moment, just as energetic as he did when he was ten. “Any news from your grandkids? I visited Peter’s last week, to celebrate Henry’s graduation.”

 

“They want you to take them to the park again.” Paul grumped good-naturedly, “Apparently their _actual_ grandpa isn’t as fun as Uncle Kenny.” Kenshin laughed at the old man, who shoved him lightly.

 

“Maybe next week,” Kenshin said. “I have an interview!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Popjeckdoom, back at it agin trying to...type on Llew's computer and hating every second.
> 
> The keyboard..is so..tiny.
> 
> Help me.
> 
> Unrelated to that nonsense, we have another chapter before a quick little interlude with some familiar characters mwahahaha. Not the characters you're thinking of. I can guarantee it. Your guess...is wrong. Probably. I cant read your mind.
> 
> Comment with guesses; we're thirsty for attention :D


	8. - alea iacta est - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin unknown to himself, wraps his life around caretaking of the Green family, and then realizes once again that good things don't last forever. Especially when Bureaucracy is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It is Llewtwo! I really hope you enjoy this chapter - we worked pretty hard on it, and hopefully made no major mistakes, lol. Sorry about the summary again, I really am bad at those.
> 
> Updates (on my own imaginary schedule, since Popjeckdoom says there isn't one) are going to be a little slow (probably every other week) for a month or two. Starting a new job, traveling, etc.
> 
> Please please comment and let us know what you think! I'm excited to show you where this is going!!
> 
> There are some time jumps in this - so pay attention to the years. I have tried to keep the times in both formats for ease of understanding. Times are in parenthesis, so they wont be confused with years.
> 
> **Small edit to fix a typo and the time/year in the last section. **Additional small edit for timeline.  
> **Edited again for date/time consistency

**MI5 Offices, Thames House, London, United Kingdom, Summer 2025**

 

Arthur Hornsby sat at his assigned desk and tried to look busy.  Everyone had been on edge the last few days, and he wasn’t sure why.  He was definitely feeling it in the air. Even his assigned senior agent was more on edge then usual.   _Carol_ had even called in sick today - she hadn’t had a sick day in 12 years. 

 

Looking up from his very repetitive and pointless spreadsheet he had invented that morning, he was immediately afraid of the very pleased look on Agent Blythe’s face.

 

“Hornsby!”  Blythe cheerfully sauntered over to Hornsby’s desk.  “I have an assignment for you!”

 

“An assignment?  But..my clearance hasn’t come through yet.” Arthur eyed the large file - an actual _physical file_ with a folder and yellowed papers.  It had to be at least 800 pages of information, stamped multiple times with “Classified” and “Sensitive Information” and overlapping dates spanning over a hundred years.  “Action: Evergreen” in slightly faded typed letters across the top. The file was tied shut with string. Fardling Actual String. He started to panic. Why wasn’t this in digital format?

 

The file was dumped in front of his work-screen with a loud, dusty _Thunk_. “Oh, don’t worry about that.  I took care of it - you have permission to handle this case.” Blythe looked positively gleeful as he tapped the large file with his index finger, emphasizing his words.  “I would suggest that you get started reading the highlights. - You’ll need to check with medical for the equipment you’ll need.”

 

Arthur Hornsby blinked at the gigantic file. “...but...Where do I start?”

 

“Not with the bodycount, I’d suggest ignoring that bit!”  Agent Blythe offered as he walked out of the office, “Oh, and don’t forget an offering!”

 

“....medical..,” Arthur eyed the file warily, “..an offering?”

 

With obvious trepidation, and no small amount of resignation, Arthur untied the string, and carefully opened the cover, reading the summary sheet which appeared to have been done at some point on an actual typewriter - this thing was _old -_ with a few changes typed or handwritten in later:

 

\--

 **Action Evergreen.    Open Date:** May 7th, 1944.       **Close Date:** NA            **Status:** Open.  

 **Threat Level:** Unknown, Assumed Catastrophic.         **Risk Level:** Unknown High      

 **Subject:**  Himura, Kenshin  

 **Height:** 5’ 2”.    **Weight:** 48 kg (106 lbs) (last measured 1945)        **Hair Colour:** Red.     **Eyes:** Violet      **Build:** Slight/Medium/Fit

 **Identifying Marks:** Cross Scar(L)face. Scar right shoulder, scar lower left side, additional -see attached sheet.

 **Age:** Unknown.  Appears about 25-35.

 **Alias:** Kenny, Kenneth, Ken, Professor Himura, Professor Green, Battousai (see additional sheet)

 **Known Location:** Oxford, England; Boars Hill, England.  See Attached.

 **Known Associates (dates of association):** Green, Henry (1929-1968); Green, Helen (1946-1963), Green, Paul (1946 - NA); Green, Peter (1946 - 1999); Green, Anna (1949 - 1998), Green, James (1946 - 2011); See attached for additional Greens, et al.

 **Known Occupations:** Secondary School Teacher, childcare provider, Martial arts instructor, Professor(post-secondary), Doctor of History, Doctor of Linguistics.

 **Known Former Occupations:** Navy Special Officer - Instructor (to 1945).     Special Operations Associated, see operations list/ additional dates.

 **Suspected Former Occupations:** “Battousai”, Assassin, Martial Artist, Ishinshishi Swordsman.

_**See page 89 for additional Special Operations list.** _

**Operative Countries/loyalties:** Allied operations for WW2. Possible Japanese citizenship (Pre WW2).

 **Citizen:** Yes

 **Known Kill Count:** ~~643 652~~ 658

 **Summary:** Possible Alien/ God/ Immortal.  Caution Advised. Bring offering upon contact (cake suggested: Chocolate no frosting)

\--

 

His eyes couldn’t help but go immediately to the kill count. A kill count. Of six hundred fifty eight. Arthur felt the sudden and near irresistible urge to go cry over a bucket of sorbet and watch bad Bollywood dramas. Closing the folder for a moment he took some steadying breaths, and wondered again if he should have become a librarian instead.  

 

Maybe Blythe still had that flask in his side drawer.

 

No.  He could _do_ this.  This was his assignment.  He was _capable_ , damn it.

 

Opening the folder again, he read the mission sheet that had been tucked inside as a coversheet.

 

\--

    **Mission Summary** : June 4, 2025.      **Action:** Evergreen      **Classification:** S/C 2 Level 6

 

       MI5 requests DNA sample from subject.  Please collect supplies for blood draw from medical, and  

       return sample at earliest convenience.  Mission completion required within 60 days. Post mission

       debriefing required.  Voluntary subject participation preferred.

 

      If subject will not allow blood draw, please use non-lethal means to collect at least one vile of alternate  

      DNA material.

 

        **Do not digitize, radio, phone, or send other electronic communications in regards to this Action.**

 

       If necessary, contact may be made with the appropriate “Green” See Action file for details.

  
\--

 

What had he gotten himself into….Alternate DNA material?

 

 

* * *

**Oxford, United Kingdom, Summer 2025, Kenshin’s Home**

 

“Uncle Kenshin? I’m heading out now!” Yelled Henry (the third) as he opened the front door to leave. He’d come in briefly to visit (and steal some food), and was likely heading back to campus housing.

 

“Did you close the fridge, Henry?” Kenshin called back, but sighed as the _door_ closed in the middle of his sentence. His electric bill shoots every time he sees that boy. So, just to check, he gets up from his comfortable chair in the study and walks down the hall to the kitchen, and lo and behold, the fridge remains open. He closes it, perhaps more aggressively than necessary, and frowns when he hears something fall inside.

 

Kenshin sighs again. He doesn’t open the fridge again to check.

 

Not moments later, the doorbell rings. Kenshin didn’t think Henry (the third) would be back so soon, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else today...unless it was another one of the children. Then he _was_ expecting someone, and he also wasn’t home. Yesterday they’d eaten all his good biscuits.

 

He went to the door, stepping over a toy little two year old Fiona had left on his carpet, and looked through the peephole. On the other side of the door was not, in fact, one of the children. It was a young, nervous looking man in a suit. He had brown hair and dark eyes, and overall looked rather plain. He was holding what appeared to be a chocolate cake.

 

Ah. A chocolate cake. Kenshin knew where this was going.

 

He opened the door, and watched with some amusement as the young man jumped out of his skin.  “Yes?” He said, and the young agent looked like he was about to faint.

 

“U-uhm.” he gulped. “I’m with the-”

 

“Yes, I know who you’re with. What do you need?” Kenshin waved him inside, and relieved him of the chocolate cake. Mm, cake. But what did they want this time? He was glad, at least, they’d sent someone else this time. Agent Cooper was an arse.

 

“I’m Hornsby,” The man burst out, “I, uh, I am Agent Hornsby. I was sent by - well..” Hornsby tripped over the toy on the carpet as he came in, stumbling inadvertently closer to Kenshin and then scrambling back a few steps to a “safe” distance.  Kenshin really hoped he didn’t start crying. This poor man.

 

“I was sent to ask for...a blood sample?” his voice trembled slightly.

 

Kenshin paused at the doorway to the kitchen and looked back.

 

Hornsby looked at the cake that Kenshin was holding, and then at the door behind him. He was likely wishing he hadn’t handed over said cake so he could use it as a weapon...or shield.

 

Kenshin sighed. “I’m not going to kill you, calm down.”

 

Hornsby did not in fact calm down.

 

 _‘He must be new - they aren’t usually this jumpy._ ’ “Do you want some tea?”

 

“Y-ye-” Agent Hornsby’s voice cracked. “Yes, sir.”

 

So, as usual, Kenshin finds himself shuffling a young man into his kitchen to feed and offer tea. It seems the years of being everyone’s default babysitter have payed off. Soon, Hornsby is sat at his table, teacup in hand, looking less like he’ll faint but more like he’ll throw up.

 

Kenshin serves himself a piece of cake and obviously enjoys it while he eats. He watches with amusement the uncomfortableness emanating in waves from this young man. ‘ _He looks like he thinks I want to eat him...well,_ a _t least the cake is good.’_  He briefly wonders how long the boy will sit and try to drink tea before he has a coronary.

 

Kenshin does not offer the nervous man cake.

 

“So, Agent Hornsby.”  If possible, the boy looks even paler when Kenshin says his name. “What do they wish a blood sample for?”

 

Arthur swallowed. “I...They didn’t say sir?  Just. Asked me to get a sample….from you...if that’s okay.”

 

 _‘What did they tell this boy that makes him so nervous?’_ It wasn't until Hornsby replies that Kenshin realizes he may have asked out loud.

 

“Are you..uh….really a God sir?  Or...whatever you are?” Hornsby flinches, realizing he has probably said too much.

 

“Oro!” Kenshin just tries not to laugh, ‘ _A God?  They think I am a God?’_ Kenshin considers the boy with his violet eyes, trying to keep the mirth from his face, which unfortunately has the side effect of making him appear almost annoyed. “I am whatever I am, yes.”

 

This is possibly the most fun he’ll have until break ends.

 

He leisurely eats another bite of cake while Arthur blanches further and hides behind his tea cup.  

 

“Hmmm, I suppose It is acceptable”, Kenshin finally replies.  “How much of a sample do you need?” He briefly considers if he should go get a knife.  He really doesn’t like needles.

 

“Um...they gave me some tubes?”  I’ll...I’ll get them! They are in the car, right!”  Arthur obviously is suffering from this experience. The flustered Agent runs out of the room and Kenshin can hear him going out the front door.

 

Even odds on if the boy runs or comes back in.  Perhaps he will offer him some cake if he does return.

 

Pouring himself some more tea, he slices himself a second piece.  A few minutes later, Arthur comes back in with a black case. Opening it up there are three small vials and a butterfly IV set.

 

‘ _I hate needles’_  Kenshin eyes the case considering how much they will continue to bother him if he refuses.  “You can have one.”    _No cake for the boy after all, damn needles._

 

Arthur flushes, “Ah..of course.  One will be fine.”

 

 

* * *

**Oxford, United Kingdom, Winter, 2072**

 

Opening the door to the lecture hall, Kenshin smiled.  It was good to be back. This time around he was actually teaching Japanese language and culture.  Much of which had changed at least a little since he last lived in Japan, but he had tried to keep up through television and study.  ‘ _I think this is the same lecture hall I was in back in the 1940s….with some upgrades.’_

 

He was followed inside by a brown haired, green eyed, slight young woman of about 20, carrying another box.  “Where do you want this one, Uncle Kenshin?” Helen (the 4th) asked. She grunted a little, shifting a knee up to hold the box while she adjusted its weight in her hands.  

 

Kenshin set down the well-worn wooden case on the desk near the front of the room, “Here is fine…”  He looked up at her as she finished navigating the stairs down to the lecture floor. “Oro! Helen! That one is heavy!

 

“No kidding,” she grunted, dumping the box on the desk and stretching with relief while Kenshin hovered. “What do you keep in here anyway?”  

 

“Ah, books!  And letters. Henry’s old sketchbooks...Things!”  Kenshin happily replied. Opening the box he pulled out a badly carved wooden turtle to show her, And then proceeded to decorate his desk with a few very random objects.  He pulled out a clear garment bag with some replicas and some of his original clothing, a miniature koto case and his shakuhachi. The instruments went on the desk, and the clothing was hung up in the lockable storage cabinet at the side of the room.  The box was also locked in the cabinet after the books were emptied into a locking bookshelf. The final item to grace the desk was a framed picture of Kenshin and Henry with the other instructors from WW2, on the beach outside of Alexandria. A smaller picture of a Japanese woman was added into the corner of the frame.

 

“Helen sat in Kenshin’s chair and picked up the picture, putting her feet on his desk.  “I know who these two are, but who are the rest?”

 

Kenshin peered over her shoulder, “Well the one on the left is Brewer, he taught slavic languages and German.  Williams is on the right, he mostly taught French and Spanish, sometimes Greek. He took over the care of Mochi when your great great grandfather was reassigned.”  Kenshin tapped the last face in the row a few times, trying to remember. “Paulson? Parson? He taught many of the middle eastern languages.”

 

Helen smiled back at him curiously, referring to the cat the prior him was holding in the picture, “Is this the original Mochi?”

 

“The one your Great Uncle Paul wrote those children’s books about, yes.”

 

Trying to distract her a bit from the picture and glancing only momentarily at Kaoru’s image as he reclaims the frame from her, he changes the subject, “So I hear you have been accepted into the astrophysics program?  Why do you want to study that when History or Japanese is so much better?” He grins at his own joke.

 

She just gives him a look, “Uncle, you know I think we should be working on getting into space.  It’s not like this planet will last forever. I’d like to be part of the solution to getting us there.”

 

* * *

  **MI5 Offices, Oxford Research and Observation Branch, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**Late Afternoon**

 

“Threatening the Greens is a terrible idea.”  Agent Simmons insisted. She pressed her fingers to the glass of the desk in front of her, gazing intently at Senior Agent Armstrong.  “If you put them at risk, Himura will not hesitate to come for them, and you only need to look at his file -Hell look at his operations list!  This will end badly, Sir. Very. Badly.”

 

“Your concerns were noted, Simmons,” Armstrong replied with the tone of a man who was sure he always had the right opinion. “You aren’t involved in this.  I know you have a soft spot for the man after being his liaison for the last few years, but you need to step back and look at the bigger picture! Kenshin Himura or Kenneth Green or whatever you want to call him - _belongs to us.”_

 

Simmons thought this level of chauvinism had died with the re-birth of the space program.  Pushed by Helen Green-Wright who had later gone on to be prime minister, they had even started to consider colonizing the moon, but evidently she was wrong.

 

He shifted back in his chair, emphasizing his words with one handed gestures _. “_ He is here at our pleasure - and because no one has had the _guts_ to stand up to him and demand he do what we need him to do, we have had no progress in discovering how he has lived so long.  Leveraging the Greens will enable us to force him to comply with the testing.”

 

“I am going on record that I am opposed to this.” Simmons narrowed her eyes.  “You put us all in peril by doing this.”

 

Armstrong gave an oily smile and almost purred, “Then run back to London and report me.  I know you aren't allowed to discuss Evergreen over the phone. By the time you get back, I will already have his ... _cooperation_.”

 

Simmons smiled sweetly, knowing it would bother him more than her anger, “Oh, I will.”

 

 

* * *

  **Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**Late Afternoon**

 

Kenshin was beginning to regret agreeing to teach the distance courses this summer.  He never got the enjoyment of actually working with those students, just the headache of grading and recording lectures that he wasn’t sure anyone even watched.  Dropping his latest batch of papers on the coffee table, he sank back into the couch and rubbed his closed eyes with one hand and smoothed his hair away from his face.  ‘ _Perhaps I should take a break and spend some time with my swordwork.  The exercise usually helps_.’

 

With a long exhale, he peeked at his watch, then back at the pile of papers he needed to finish grading.  Unfortunately he didn’t have enough time for a good workout before he needed to be at James’ house tonight.  It was a birthday celebration, after all. Paul (the 7th), was turning 60. He couldn’t miss that. This Paul was very much like the original Paul had been, although his looks took more after his mother Helen.  Even his namesake Kenny (the 1st!) would be there, although he couldn’t talk yet. His babble was still very cute and _obviously_ intelligent.

 

Maybe just three more papers…

 

 

* * *

  **Green’s home, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**Early Evening**

 

James Green was in a terrible mood.  

 

Bad enough to have stepped in a puddle earlier, but upon getting home, before he even had time to change socks, he had been blinded with a canvas bag over his head.

 

Now, he couldn’t just stand for that, and so he had proceeded to yell as loud as he could and slam the attacker into the wall.  

 

Unfortunately there had been more than one.  He had unceremoniously been overpowered and bound with tape.  He could hear his wife Kami and his father Paul giving a good fight in the kitchen, and some kind of war cry from Harry upstairs.

 

He could hear...Kenny!  Oh, he must be in his chair in the kitchen - hmm, at least someone was happy - James could hear him giggling.  

 

Who were these people?  And what had his family done to piss the wankers off?

 

Some muffled screeching was getting closer, and someone was thrown down beside him.  Must be Kami. Another thump against the wall immediately after with a muffled grunt must be his father.  “Are you both ok? Who are these people?” he asked, and then realized they must be gagged when the muffled reply was unintelligible.

 

He could her some scuffling upstairs and yelling, and Kenny was now crying in the kitchen. There was a loud crash against the wall and “Fuck, someone get the sword away from that kid!” and a few minutes later an “Ow! Gag him too! He bites!”  and then Harry was tied up beside him as well.

 

James was fighting both anger and fear, when the bag was pulled up and something was sprayed in his face - and the world faded into black.

 

 

* * *

  
**Secure Facility - Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155**

**6:40pm (1840)**

 

“Wake him up.” James hears from a low but nasal voice as he began to swim back into consciousness.  “We need information.”

 

He was jerked into a sitting position.  Blearily he opened his eyes trying to figure out where the hell he was when suddenly he remembered the house, Kami, Harry and everyone…

 

Too late, he began struggling against his bonds and realized he had already been tied to whatever was behind him.  His hands were cuffed in front of him, so at least that was less uncomfortable than the tape he had been secured with before, but his upper arms seemed to be tied with rope behind his back.  HIs feet were also secured together. He glared at the red faced man across the room, cursing behind his gag.

 

“Mr. Green.  If you cease struggling, I will allow you to rejoin your family.  If however you resist...well, it would be terrible if something were to happen to them.”  

 

James immediately stilled.

 

The red faced man was the one with the nasal voice.  It seems at some point a blow had been landed to the man’s face, because his nose was quite swollen, crooked, and appeared to have recently been bleeding.  A monitor came on in the wall beside the nose man, revealing a small room with the rest of his family. They had been untied, but it looked like his father was still out - he was laying on one of the cots.  Kami was holding Kenny, and a wave of relief hit him when it appeared that their youngest was alright. Harry was pacing, but also seemed to be ok, if a bit ruffled.

 

Nose man nodded, and someone behind him untied the gag and removed it.  James tried to regain some moisture in his mouth and ease the ache in his jaw before speaking.  “What...why are we here? Who are you?!”

 

“It doesn’t matter who I am.  What you need to understand, is that you and your family are here as bait.  If you wish to live and prosper, you will cooperate. Do I make myself clear?”

 

James clenched his jaw with anger, but nodded.   _How could he get out of this?_

 

“Now, what time was Kenshin supposed to arrive at your home?”

 

“Kenshin?  You mean Uncle Kenny?” Nose man nodded.

 

“At 20 to Eight.” He grudgingly replied, and hoped he was convincing.  He still wasn’t sure what this was all about, but his family was being held hostage, and Uncle Kenny was somehow involved in this mess.

 

 

* * *

**Green’s home, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155**

**6:45pm (1845)**

 

Upon arrival at the Greens, Kenshin gets out of the taxi and collects his bottle of wine and a box of some homemade mochi which was his contribution of this evening’s festivities.  As he reached the door he rang the bell, but there was no answer. He could see lights on inside, but no sounds - ‘ _Perhaps they were in the back of the house, or had run out to get something_?’  

 

Deciding to try the door, Kenshin reached for the latch when he noticed the wood is scraped beside the frame where the locking mechanism was, and it not fully latched.  

 

Someone had forced their way in.

 

Immediately he left the porch and headed for the side of the house.  He left the wine, his jacket, and box of Mochi in the bushes, and circled around to the kitchen wall, avoiding the windows and trying to stay as much in the shadow of the house as he could.  If someone was in the house, they would probably have gone to investigate whomever was at the door.  He needed to get inside quickly. 

 

While Kami cooked, she tended to crack open the kitchen window a bit, and so very rarely locked it. Hopefully, Kenshin inched his way under the window and lifted his fingers to the frame, testing it...and Yes!  It slowly slid upwards until the pane was as open as it could get, with only the slightest of squeaks at the end. Kenshin flinched. He was obviously out of practice.

 

First checking the visible yard and surroundings for anyone that might be watching, Kenshin shifted to peer slightly into the window, listening for anyone who might be inside, or who might have heard the window.  When nothing responded after a reasonable time, Kenshin slowly stood and maneuvered his way inside, carefully pulling through the open window and lowering himself to the floor in a silent crouch. Still no noise inside, although he could tell that something had been cooking too long, a slightly burnt acidic smell in the air and stinging his eyes.  

 

There.   A slight sound in the room above him.  

 

Pulling the poker carefully from the stand beside the fireplace, and a bottle of oil from the countertop, he crouched again waiting for movement. ‘ _I should not have worn a suit today.’_

 

After there was no further sense of occupants, he silently glided through the kitchen, avoiding some pans which had oddly been left on the floor.  Kenshin oiled the hinges, and opened the pantry door to slip inside and left it slightly ajar. Going up the back staircase in the back of the pantry to the next level, he paused at the door to the old servants quarters, now being used as mostly storage and as a playroom.  Oiling those hinges as well, he eased it open enough to see the room was dark.  No noises.  He slipped inside and over to the hall door, laying on the floor beside the wall.  Using the poker, he hooked the edge of the pocket door along the bottom where it met the carpet, and slid it ever so slightly open. Now he could see into the lit hallway, while the room he was in was still dark.  

 

Suddenly, he heard movement behind him and felt something brush against his legs with a soft “Prrrow..”  Kenshin nearly jumped out of his skin, but thankfully didn’t cry out. Although momentarily he regretted getting the Greens a cat.  “Little Mochi!” He whispered harshly, turning to stroke her soft gray fur and shifting to a kneeling crouch, “You should not sneak up on me!”

 

Taking steadying breaths as the cat wandered back into the darkness of the room, Kenshin leaned forward to scan the hallway, and then slid the door back further into the pocket, stepping out into the cluttered space.  

 

There had obviously been some sort of struggle.  Harry’s bokken was broken into two pieces in the corridor, and there were signs of things hitting the walls, scuffing up the paint.  ‘ _Thankfully no signs of blood…’_ He flinched - he had obviously come to a conclusion too soon. Kenshin crouched near the small bit of spatter on the wall, and noticed there was also a smear on the broken practice blade.

 

Clearing the rest of the second floor, Kenshin then stalked silently through the remainder of the house, trying to piece together what had happened, and why.  

 

The basement was clear, and it as the sun was getting lower outside it was getting dimmer indoors.  He went back to the kitchen and rifled through the junk drawer for a torch, and then turned off the oven, which was still on.  He didn’t want to turn on any additional lights and draw attention to his presence in the house. Kenshin was heading to the front stairs when he noticed something catch the light on the floor near the front door.  Stepping up to the paper, he could see where it had originally been set so someone coming in the front door would notice it. He stooped to pick it up, and took on an unnatural stillness as he read:

  
\---

Kenshin -

 

We have them.  If you want to see them again, you will report to the following address at 2330 tonight.  Bring no one, tell no one. Come unarmed. You will submit to testing and being held until further notice.  If you resist, they will suffer.

 

51.763905, -1.217754

\---

The stillness resolved into sudden clarity, as Kenshin’s normally cheerful face hardened into a cold expression he had not worn for many, many years.

 

**_Who. Would. Dare._ **

 

Scanning the note again, he notices the thickness of the paper, the odd and antiquated use of a typewriter font.  Lifting the paper up in front of the light, the seal of the watermark becomes clear, and a low growl escapes his lips and he crushed the paper in his hands.  Whichever agent was behind this must not know him well, to think he is this much of an idiot.

 

 

* * *

  
**London MI5 Offices, New Building, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155**

**7:15pm (19:15)**

 

Sitting down in the offered chair before the director’s desk.  Agent Simmons was relieved to have finally made it past the levels of bureaucracy to just have this meeting, let alone to call the director back from home for it.   

 

Director Llewellyn sat and smoothed her suit jacket after closing the door, and activated the jamming field in the room.  “So, Agent Simmons. What is so urgent on the Evergreen project that you needed to call me back to work?” Simmons tried not to flinch, she rarely had been in the Director’s office, let alone facing her direct regard and potential wrath.

 

“Director, I unfortunately must report that Senior Agent Armstrong has gone rogue.  He has disregarded my advice on the Evergreen case - which as you know is my primary assignment - and is taking a team to use the Greens as hostages against Mr. Himura.”  Simmons reported, keeping her voice cool and even. “I think it is a political ploy. You know he is supported in The Commons.”

 

Llewellyn frowned, her face darkening at the news.  “When does he plan to execute this action? He did not submit anything to headquarters for approval.  At least not since his request for additional material was denied.”

 

Simmons nodded, meeting the Director’s eyes, her voice rising in tension as she became more invested in the conversation.  She was trying to stay neutral, but she practically knew all of these people - she had been watching them long enough to at least!  “He was leaving to collect his team as I left Oxford this afternoon - but we can't discuss Evergreen over the phone or you know I would have reported earlier if possible.   Armstrong thinks he can get Kenshin to submit to testing and confinement if he leverages the Greens.”

 

The Director stood, pushing a red square on her desk - which turned green as the door opened, An Indian man in a blue suit stepping inside.  “Send the response team theta to intercept Armstrong and his team - Oxford. He is acting without authorization.”

 

“Sir.”  He replied, and left, closing the door behind him.

 

Llewellyn turned her gaze back to Simmons, who was still seated.  “You will go to Himura’s flat - run interference - try to locate him before he becomes involved.  Hopefully we can avoid a national crisis here. This could potentially…” she trailed off and then switched subjects, “Take the skimmer.  And take Marcus or Jenkins with you - they should both be in the hanger.  You will travel faster that way. I am authorizing level 2 communication on this - use Willow as the call-sign.”

 

Standing, Simmons responded with conviction, “Right away, Director.”  

 

 

* * *

  
**Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**8:02pm (2002)**

 

Agent SImmons is relieved to see that nothing seems to be out of order.  There had been no answer at the door, which had only stopped her for the moment it took to break the security, but with Jenkin’s help the apartment was cleared in short order - unfortunately, no Kenshin.

 

Tapping her wrist to activate the coms, Simmons waved Jenkins to close up as they removed signs of their presence.  “Willow one report to base - Target is not at the flat, I repeat - Willow still not located. Proceeding to secondary location.”

 

She can hear the “Understood” reverberate in her jaw, the implant not even noticed anymore.

 

\----

**Near the Green’s house, Outside Oxford, United Kingdom,**

**8:43pm (2043)**

 

They take the skimmer to the Green’s neighborhood, parking it in a copse of trees on one of the large properties about a quarter of a mile away.  

 

It takes them another 15 minutes to fully search the Green’s house, which currently houses no Greens and no Kenshin, although they find a bottle of wine and a box of food in the bushes.  

 

“Jenkins, set up across the street and surveil.  Notify me if anyone - and I mean anyone comes up to the house.  I’ll send a relief to you if it goes all night.”

 

He nods and goes to collect his gear from the skimmer.  Taking one last look over the Green’s home, a sigh escapes her lips before she taps her wrist to report in.  “Willow one to base - Negative on location two.  Appears the first team may have already been here.  I’m leaving Jenkins here to watch for Willow and associated. I could use some support from the Oxford office if I am going to search the whole damn city.”  she says in a quiet, but dry tone. “Not that I don’t appreciate Jenkins, but he is only one man.  We should have planted a tracker.”

 

“Understood.”  She hears back.  “Standby.”

 

Great.  Standby.  She’s standing by.  

 

About 10 minutes later while she’s walking slowly through the neighborhood, Jenkins reports in, “Willow two reporting - In place.  Remote camera set on property rear. Good signal.”

 

“Understood two, standing by.” she replies under her breath.

 

She continues walking back to the skimmer while she waits.

 

 

* * *

  **Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**9:25pm (2125)**

 

Kneeling in front of his small shrine, he lit a stick of incense.  ‘ _Forgive me.  And help me find those responsible.’_

 

After a short while, Kenshin stood, and removed his Sakkabtou from the stand on the wall.  Tying it into its old familiar place at his side, he glanced briefly at his reflection in the glass by the door.  Traditional garb, sword, and his hair pulled back, his scar standing out in surprising contrast on his face - a man he had long thought gone looked back at him.

 

There is an odd sense of nostalgia, in his gut, as he looks at himself in the glass. He is not wearing the faded red of his wandering days, but the deep blue of his days at war. At the time, it was for stealth. Kenshin breathed in deeply, and closed his eyes.

 

Now, he realizes, _intimidation_ is far more important than stealth.

 

His eyes open, and cold amber replaces warm violet hue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I wasn't expecting so much intrigue so early on, but I hope that means you weren't expecting it either. Comment if you have something to say, it fills our cold, dead writer hearts with happy :D
> 
> Popjeckdoom


	9. alea iacta est - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Popjeckdoom can hopefully fix this, because chapter summaries aren't my thing - I mean. Kenshin with a sword, stupid agents, pigeons and MI5 agents being idiots. In other words Kenshin brings his frustration and experience to bear in his search for the Greens, and tries to remain himself while facing his enemies. Cryptids are once again sighted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Again from Llewtwo! Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments!! They mean the world to us! Here is the next installment - not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but within the next few weeks is probably a pretty good estimate. 
> 
> Please comment and let us know what you think! :D You bring light to our lives!
> 
> Edited for spelling and minor errors

 

 **Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford,** **United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**9:47pm (2147)**

 

It is quiet.  And it smells like antiseptic.  This place is creepy. He shivers subtly and tells himself it’s the cool breeze from the broken window.

 

Junior Agent Mossman checks his watch again, which lights up briefly to display the time and date - only a few minutes until he reports in.  Stakeouts are so miserable. _‘72 bottles of beer on the wall, 72 bottles of beer…’_ Agent Potter owes him bad for this one.  Shifting somewhat, he checks the sight on his rifle again.  Still no contact. Not that he thinks the guy will be stupid enough to show.

 

On the rooftop across the way, a somewhat confused and tired man walks from the stairway ending at the roof door to the edge of the flat roof, scanning the surrounding buildings and the city around that.  As he approaches the edge, he catches the flash of light from Mossman checking his watch in a window across the way.

 

When he is about to chalk it up to his imagination, he again notices the shifting of movement when the agent leans in to check the scope of his gun.  

 

Crouching to avoid the other man noticing _him_ , he takes stock of the situation.  There is someone watching the outside of the building -  A building which if his few minutes inside are any indication, is abandoned.  He can’t be on campus anymore, because the surrounding city seems intact and alive compared to this fenced in lot, although not a city he is familiar with.  That and he still has no phone signal. The signs inside are however in english, and if his past experiences are any indication, probably not American. So, if someone else is here, it must mean he is also here for a reason.  Perhaps he will find another random Japanese man to rescue, since that seems to be the theme lately.

 

Not many legitimate organizations would choose an abandoned medical facility as a base of operations.  It wouldn’t be logical.

 

He shifts out of sight into the shadows of the rooftop, and puts some eyedrops in.  This is really getting old.

 

* * *

  


**MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 1st, 2155,**

**9:47pm (2147)**

 

It was late, but the trains were still running.  He considered if they would have taken the Green’s to London, but almost immediately ruled that out.  The time they had allotted would not have given him time to guarantee arrival, so it must be one of their local facilities.  

 

Unfortunately, with things having been so smooth and war free, he had not tracked their facilities down for quite a few years.  Hopefully the headquarters for the area hadn’t moved.

 

Which was why, but a short time later, he was standing across the street, looking at the entrance to a familiar building.  It was still the only building on this street that had businesses listed on the sign, but those same businesses were the ones from when the building had been built years ago - and they never showed up in the directory service.  He considered how to get in, and how much trouble it would be to get back out, and came up with an idea.

 

A terrible idea, but at least an idea.

 

Embracing his terrible idea, he walks up to the front entrance, and up to the desk in the center of the lobby, which is manned by a very bored looking young man in a rumpled security suit. This young man was very familiar, actually. Daniel, Kenshin recalled, was a student in his class not even five years ago, who had dropped out mid-term. As Kenshin catches Daniel’s eye, the terrible idea begins to shape into a...plausible one.

 

“Professor?” Daniel asked, startled. “What are you doing here? And what are you wearing? Then a moment later, since Kenshin seems a bit off from Daniel’s memory, “Are you alright?”

 

“I have a meeting with Simmons,” Kenshin said, a flat smile on his face, “Unfortunately, I did not have time to change clothes after my presentation today - I am running a bit late.” Daniel seems to buy it, and turns away from Kenshin to reach for the desk phone and call the upstairs desk to check Simmons office or for whomever is on duty.

 

Kenshin takes his chance. As the young security guard turns, his hand slides over the edge of the counter and presses the elevator button beside him. Daniel is already fully turned around toward the phone as the doors open, offering Kenshin’s explanation to whomever is on the other end of the line.   

 

Hmm.. Change of plans.  

 

Kenshin shifts quickly into the elevator, just long enough to press the top floor and hop out before it begins it’s ascent.  Daniel is still on the phone with whomever is upstairs, talking about Kenshin’s meeting.

 

“Agent Warner will meet you at the Elevator lobb….” Daniel trails off, looking around.  Kenshin has slipped back out the lobby doors and Daniel is left in an empty room as he stands to look around.  “Professor?” Daniel glances at the elevator, and sees on the display above the doors that it has just passed floor six. “Ah, nevermind, Julia, it seems he’s on his way.  Should I call in a security breach?” He winces, hoping not. He’s already going to be in enough trouble as it is. ”I don’t think he’s any danger - he’s just a professor.  I used to take a class from him.” He nods at the words on the other end of the line, “Got it, ok, well, if you need backup, let me know and I’ll sound it.”

 

\---

 

 

Kenshin found it ridiculously easy to climb up to the roof of a neighboring building which at some point had been built up taller than this one.  Jumping the distance between them, and stepped over to get inside the top floor of the MI5 office while security was watching the elevator. Without stepping into view, he absentmindedly re-directed the roof camera to a nest of pigeons, broke the lock, and entered the utility room; which, ironically, was likely on the top floor for security reasons.

 

Inside, there were many panels and switches. Many more than Kenshin had the time to figure out. So, he went with the most clearly labeled, ‘Elevator controls,’ and the circuit breaker beside it. He crosses some wires, and he can hear the elevator start repeatedly dinging from the maintenance access door across the room. With calm focus, he flips the switch on some of the circuits in the neighboring electrical panel, removing labels to make it harder to fix.

 

He notices that also posted to the wall is a very dusty ‘Emergency Plan’ which has maps of the building identifying exit routes and room numbers.  He rips out the map for the top floor, and turns back to the circuit panel. Identifying the top floor on the panel and removing most of those labels as well as a few others for good measure, he cuts the lights, and power to the camera and security system - _What idiot labeled this?_

 

A blue emergency light flickers on above him, bathing the room in an eerie glow.

 

\---

 

Downstairs, when the elevator begins randomly dinging and switching floors, Daniel looks up again from his movie and considers if the elevator heading up might have just been a malfunction.  

 

Daniel glances at the monitors - all quiet...and pigeons?  Damn birds must have landed on the camera again. He turns back to the phone and pushes the call button for the upstairs desk. “Julia,” he begins when the line picks up, “Oh, my pardon Agent Banks.  Is Julia still there?” “Alright, I’ll just radio her to let her know.” His attention is already returning to his personal phone, and the movie he’d been watching on it before he was interrupted by work. “You already called them for the elevator? Yep, all quiet here.  Thanks Banks.” He hangs up the phone.

 

\---

 

Pressing the call button for the freight elevator which also enters into the Utility room, Kenshin waits, and when it arrives, he simply steps inside and watches for the door behind him to close. _Then_ he pushes the button for the top floor, opening the door to the other side of the elevator, and into the main building.  The main elevator around the corner is still randomly dinging.

 

He quickly peeks out, and since no one is in the hallway, steps down a couple of doors away from the corner, trying each handle before slipping inside the room behind the first unlocked door.  It seems to be someone’s office. He pulls out the flashlight he collected at the Green’s house, and clicks it on the first level, just enough to lessen the gloom. This interior office has no windows.  Locating the phone on the desk, he riffles through papers until he finds an office directory. _Excellent._

 

It is simple deduction to discover which office suite is the largest, and highest up in the building.  Comparing the map he lifted to the directory, he determines that Senior Agent-in-Charge Curtis Armstrong’s office appears to be his target.  Coldly, he quickly determines possible routes there from his current location, as well as exit strategies should he need to leave quickly. This place does seem oddly quiet, even for an office at night.

 

He grabs a few small items off of the desk, turning off the torch, and returns to the slightly ajar door, scanning the hallway again before exiting.  He can hear someone approaching...no, two people. He waits.

 

\---

 

Julia Warner is the most Junior Agent in the Oxford Office.  Which is how she finds herself with all the crap duty shifts and tasks.  Coordinator of night security contractors, custodians and maintenance sounds less romantic and interesting than ‘Junior Agent’ - still so disappointing that reality isn’t like her favorite novels.   They finally had some sort of op going on, and rather than actually getting the chance to go, she is shuffled off to the skeleton crew remaining at the building. So here she is, escorting maintenance to the problem - as if he couldn’t find it himself.  

 

They step around the corner, oblivious to their audience who has slipped up to the corner behind them, and stand in front of the dinging main elevator. It opens.  And closes. And a moment later, opens again.

 

She gestures curtly to the elevator door and at the lights. As he still just stands there.

 

“Elevator is on the fritz, as you can hear, and we seem to be having issues with the lights and power, as you can also, clearly see.”  It wouldn’t be so bad if Marvin wasn’t so creepy.

 

Marvin smoothed back his oily brown hair over his bald spot and shot her a leer, “Oh.  Right, well, I still appreciate your...:” his eyes skimmed over her assets, “..help. I can only do so much troubleshooting you know.  Important to know what the priorities are.”

 

She rested one hand on her taser and just pointed to the elevator with the other.

 

He shrugs as if it’s no loss of his own, and inserting his keys into the exterior panel he locks the doors open, and the dinging blessedly stops.  He steps inside opening the interior panel, and plugs in a diagnostic tool.

 

Julia waits, radioing in, “At the 10th floor elevator access.  Maintenance on site.” She gets a copy back, and catches him ogling her again, rather than paying attention to his work.  He just leers, and returns his eyes to the glowing screen. “There’s nothing wrong with it.” He finally says.

 

“What?”  Julia steps into the elevator beside him, looking at the screen - not that she can tell what all that technobabble means. “Of course there's something wrong with it.  Why else would it be doing the thing with the doors and the dinging?”

 

“Well, I can turn the power off to it, and we can close it up for now.  But this says it is in running order. I’ll have to call a specialist in.”

 

“Bother.” She lifts the radio back to her lips, “Banks?  Yeah, we are shutting it down for the night. Need to call a specialist in.”  

 

The reply echoes loudly in the small space, so she steps back into the hallway “Copy.  What about that guy you were going to track down? Said he was here for a meeting?”

 

“Shit, I forgot.  On my way.” Her gaze flicks back to the oily man still in the elevator, packing up his tools. “I’ll check back with you later Marvin - see if you can figure out the lights?”  

 

She turns before he nods, and continues down the hallway around the opposite corner from where Kenshin is listening in.  

 

She isn’t there to notice when Kenshin slips over and turns the access key in the opposite direction and removes it, the closing elevators’ doors locking shut on a startled, “Oi!” from Marvin and a banging on the doors.  “This isn’t funny Warner!” he can hear through the doors.

 

Kenshin takes the keys with him, and steps after Agent Warner silently.

 

\---

 

Eventually, she gets to Simmon’s office, just down the west hall from Armstrong’s, and checks the door - still locked.  She clicks her radio over to the other channel “Hey Danny, there isn’t anyone up here. You sure that guy went up the elevator?”

 

Downstairs, Daniel startles at the crackle of the radio and almost drops in on the floor as he fumbles for it.  He had been watching a particularly intense scene in his movie. “Uh, yeah, Julia! Sorry. What? You mean Professor Green?  Yeah, he said he had a meeting.”

 

Junior Agent Julia Warner goes still.

 

Lifting her radio up she replies “Did you say Professor Green?”

 

“Yeah, a professor at Oxford. Professor Green. Said he was here to meet with Simmons, seemed a bit late, but I guess they are in class most of the day.”  Daniels short attention span is already almost back to his movie, and he doesn’t catch the tone in which Warner had responded.

 

Shit.

 

Julia flips back over to the other channel on the radio and pulls her taser, suddenly feeling inadequately alone. “Security bre-”  her voice cuts off as Kenshin’s sword expertly strikes her on the side of the head and she slides to the floor. The taser she fired as she was struck hits the wall, the lines falling uselessly to the floor beside her.

 

Kenshin briefly regards her with cold, amber eyes. So young. Pity she seems to be involved. She did after all, recognize his current name.

 

He uses her taser cords to tie her hands behind her to her ankles, and opening Simmon’s office with his handy set of acquired keys, drags her inside.  He drops her inside the door, searches her pockets, and deposits the phone and knife she also had on her into the desk drawer. Since she was so concerned with him getting in here, he figures it’s worth the time to look around.  His quick search of the desk doesn’t turn up much, except a printed email that looks like it was sent from Simmons to Armstrong, objecting to “the mission” and going on record that she is against it - dated today. _‘Perhaps, if this is about the Greens, it isn’t all of MI5 after all.’_

 

The only other item left seemingly out of place is a small opaque plastic box with some little clicker type devices wedged into foam inside.  One is missing. He takes one out and examines it, and vaguely remembers Simmons using one of these when she came over to “chat” one time. Some sort of jammer.  He pulls a few more out of the box, and shoves them into a pocket.

 

He shuts the unconscious Agent Warner in the office as he leaves, locking it again.  Someone will be here soon. Sooner than she will wake from that strike. He retrieves the radio and turns the volume down, so it can just barely be heard, and clips it to his collar before continuing down the hallway.

 

\---

 

Downstairs, Daniel pulls out a candy bar and glances over at the monitors that he is supposed to be watching.  It is only at this belated moment that he realizes that the majority of the cameras for the 10th floor are out.  The only one still running is outside Armstrong’s office, and it is on a separate circuit from the others. The half eaten candy bar drops forgotten to the desk as he watches a warrior from one of his movies cut the door to Armstrong’s office from its hinges with one blow, circumventing the hand plate, and step inside.  

 

Professor...Green?

 

He pushes the Alarm.  In another part of the building, Agent Banks swears and picks up the phone.  In another building, a blinking light and an alert tone sound, and security guards begin to scramble for their gear.

 

\---

 

This office is ridiculous. Obviously this man thinks highly of himself, but couldn’t he be a little neater?  Kenshin sheaths his sword and begins pulling cabinet doors and flipping through papers and files. After a few minutes he slams the drawer shut, _I’m getting nowhere, and the Greens are still missing!_  His expression hardens again and he frowns, considering the room.

 

Kenshin steps quickly over to Armstrong’s desk.  If anything on the location of the Greens is here, it would be with one of the higher-ups. He knew his file was a high-priority one with the Oxford office. There was the issue, however, of finding it among all...this.

 

Agent Armstrong was surprisingly messy, considering the sensitive nature of many of these papers. And, surprisingly stuck in the past, considering how much was available on paper.

 

The door behind him, now hanging off the door handle rather than the hinges, fell to the floor with a bang as a tall man in a security uniform burst in. “Stop right there!” he shouted, aiming a gun at Kenshin’s head, “This office contains sensitive information. Back away from the desk.”

 

Kenshin looked at the man over his shoulder and drew his sword in front of him, view of it blocked by the desk. There were five others with him, dressed much the same. Hmm.

 

It seemed that this would take longer than he thought.

 

He smiles slowly because the man with the gun is trembling. “Good Evening.  Perhaps you can collect Agent Simmons for me - seems I am late for a meeting.”  Kenshin turns to face the man and holds his sword ready at his side. The others behind the first guard circle in the sides of the room, blocking the exit and also taking aim.

 

“Drop the weapon!” commands the first man,  his aim steadying slightly. “We have you surrounded.  You are not authorized to be in this location!”

 

His half smile still on his face, Kenshin turns his cold eyes to each man in turn.  “I will give you this chance to surrender. It is only fair.”

 

The man frowns under his mustache, “You are surrounded.  Drop your weapon and surrender! this is your last warning!”

 

Kenshin’s weight shifts slightly and his eyes seem almost to glow, “As you wish.”  

 

With a leap Kenshin flips over the desk.  Two of the guards that had circled the sides of the room try to fire as he moves forward, and end up hitting each other from across the room, crying out in pain and surprise. The first man fires also, which grazes Kenshin’s leg as he clears the desk and strikes the man across the throat with his sakabato.  The man begins to stagger back, gasping.

 

Kenshin is still moving as the fourth guard fires, and his return motion with his blade knocks the bullet out of its trajectory with a spark.  Shifting his weight forward he thrusts the end of the blade into the solar plexus of the guard, knocking the wind from him and causing him to curl over in pain.  Kenshin twists around, cracking the staggering guard across the back of the head, and he goes down, just as the fifth guard fires. Watching the bullet come, Kenshin shifts as much as he can out of the way, and it grazes his arm above the first line of red already gracing that side.  

 

Kicking off of the shoulder of the man bleeding and choking for air, Kenshin flips to his side and lands with sufficient force of his blade that he can feel the crack of the fourth guard’s collarbone and he collapses to the ground with a sharp cry, dropping his gun.  It is only a fraction of a moment later that he is struck again, and completely unconscious.

 

One of the two wounded guards tries to run.  He makes it almost to the door before the stapler Kenshin picks up from the desk and throws knocks him in the back of the head, and he falls to the floor.  

 

Kenshin tilts his head slightly and turns his focused gaze on the last man standing, who drops his gun and lifts his arms above his head, Surrendering.

 

The man barely registers that Kenshin has moved before he feels the sword strike him under the jaw, and he too slumps to the floor into darkness.

 

Kenshin looks down at him without expression.  “Too late.”

 

A flicker of regret briefly crosses his face, and Kenshin swears under his breath.  

 

Only the groans of the injured punctuate the silence after that.  

 

Kenshin rips up one of their shirts and binds the worst wounds - ironically from their own guns - ensuring they at least wont bleed to death.  He quickly uses their handcuffs to secure them, and removes all communication devices and activates one of the jammers he had found in Simmon’s office just in case.  He places the phones and radios in a neat pile in one of the desk drawers, tosses in the active jamming device, and after closing the drawer, jams it shut. He cuts the phone line for good measure, uses their own clothing to gag them for when they finally wake up, and sets them in a neat row against the wall outside the destroyed office door.  The guns he takes with him, and dumps them in the private toilet attached to the office.

 

He then continues his search of the desk and cabinets.  Despite the even greater mess now strewn about, he is eventually able to locate a file of locations - with addresses - of the local facilities of the MI5, and who is in charge of each location.  Sloppy. Comparing that list to the GPS coordinates from the note at the Greens, he narrows it down to three possible locations. There is no guarantee of course that they are actually being held at either place, but it seems to be the only lead he currently has.  He is running out of time.

 

He also finds mention of himself. And the Operation going on today.

 

It seems whomever Senior Agent Armstrong is, has been following his existence for quite a while.  And _the Battousai_ doesn’t like what he sees.  

 

\---

 

One additional security guard, three hallways, one security door, and two agents later, Kenshin finds his way to the upstairs night desk, and one Agent Banks, who is quite willing to talk by the time Kenshin has his hand pinned to a desk with a letter opener.

 

He leaves Banks unconscious, tied to the chair with his own belt and a power cable, and drops the Agent’s phone and weapons on the floor in the hallway outside.  

 

Considering how much trouble the Agent went to, trying to convince Kenshin that the Greens were not at the third location, he is fairly certain that is where they are - and his time is now up.

 

\---

 

Downstairs, Daniel is hiding behind his desk, watching the monitors.  It has been quiet for a while, and he is about to call up to Banks to see if they’ve wrapped things up when static comes over the radio.

 

“Daniel.”

 

He winces and cowers a bit lower, recognizing the voice “Yes...Professor?”

 

“You should call for medical support, some of them are wounded.”

 

“What?  I mean...Professor??”  

 

But Kenshin is already gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't post my ending comment when Sleep posted the chapter because I was on a trip to the other side of the country lmao.
> 
> We were writing through phone calls and Google drive.


	10. alea iacta est - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aizawa is tired, but almost home. Kenshin isn't home right now. Scarf Man and the Battousai team up to save the wor-I mean the Greens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back with another installment! Thank you for your wonderful comments and thoughts! We love hearing from you! 
> 
> I especially liked working on this chapter, felt like a good addition to the story and I hope you like it too! 
> 
> Cryptid sightings! Fights! Agents doing agent things!
> 
> Also, Discord - we have now, one that is: https://discord.gg/ESrpjXG   
> We arent always on it, but if you leave a message, we will answer ;)

**Chapter 10 -** **alea iacta est - Part 3**

 

**Green’s Home, Outside Oxford, June 1st, 2155,**

**10:27pm (2227)**

 

Agent Simmons had already patrolled the neighborhood twice under the guise of a runner out for a late run before she circled back to the skimmer.  Jenkins was supposed to check in soon, and she wanted to be back before then. She had just sat back in the cockpit and started checking the controls when a light flashed on her monitor and almost immediately afterward her communicator came to life.  “Simmons. We have an alarm at Oxford main - repeat, the alarm has been sounded - no one is picking up so we’re not sure what the situation is. You and Jenkins are the closest answering coms- Please copy.”

 

“Copy.  Willow on standby, reporting to Oxford main. Any word on Armstrong?”

“Negative. Coms are dark.”

 

“Understood.”

 

It’s only minutes later that Jenkins is dropping his gear in the skimmer and they are on their way.  What could have happened to the entire Oxford office - Armstrong hadn’t emptied the whole place had he?

 

 

* * *

 

**Secure Facility - Outside Oxford, United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155**

**10:40pm (2240)**

 

The broke-nose, red-faced man had gone for a while, and then come back, always with a slew of new questions, and seemingly more inventive and confusing ways to make him answer them.  It was like a horrible spy story come to life. James had never before felt more relieved to just be left alone to a view of his family on a video screen. He was sort-of proud of himself for bluffing or just giving useless answers for as long as he had, but evidently they were still communicating with the outside world, because they had started to punish him for answers they knew were wrong.  Why were they so obsessed with his Uncle? The questions didn’t even make sense half the time? Something about blood immunity and wanting to know where Kenshin was from and how exactly they were related? Kenshin was from Oxford, or at least has been for as long as really counted.

 

At least they had been leaving his family alone in their little cell.  The rest of his family at least. Kenshin was family too, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how all that lined up.  You mother’s bastard had probably been the wrong answer, if his current level of pain was an indication.

 

He had been able to catch his breath finally when the red-faced man who seemed to be in charge pulled the cattle prod away from his side and turned angrily to the man who had just opened the door and interrupted their “conversation.”

 

“What do you want!  I am busy!” Broken nose hissed.

 

“Sir,  It’s the alarms Sir, they’ve sounded at the main office.” The man glanced at him uncomfortably and back to broken-nose.

 

There was a pause, and then broken-nose got up and left the room with the other man.

 

So he caught his breath, tried to ignore the painful throb of his broken finger and the burns from the cattle prod, and hoped somehow, that they wouldn’t come back.

 

Earlier, he had begun to suspect he was not in the same place as the rest of his family when the video playing behind where Agent Armstrong usually sat shifted to static for a moment, and then seemed to start over.  Everyone on screen was standing where they had been to start from.

 

Lowering his eyes to the floor now that he was left in relative peace, James tried and failed to keep his mind from immediately going to the worst possible scenario.   _They were fine, alive, healthy, they had to all be fine.  They wouldn’t just be messing with him to get him to talk - after all, he really didn’t know anything!  Sure, he knew that his Uncle Kenshin was...old..or just..well, Asian, but that couldn’t be that important?!  He was just Uncle Kenny after all! He had always been Uncle Kenny, a staple in their lives, a branch of their family tree.  He would always be there for them, right? That must be it! For some reason, sometime, these people must have done something terrible and Uncle Kenneth must have stopped them.  They must be out for vengeance or something. But ...why, why now? Why his family!? They hadn’t done anything!_

 

\---

 

In the hallway, Agent Armstrong is growling at Agent Potter, “You are sure it was him?!”

 

“Yes Sir, Agent Banks called it in to us, He said that the target took down the entire staff remaining in the building, as well as the security personnel that were called in when the Alarm sounded.”  Potter paused, obviously not wanting to bring Armstrong’s wrath down on himself - he was just the messenger.

 

“Spit it out!”

 

Potter flinched, “Sir...He said that the target is most likely on his way here.  The locations were compromised, pulled from your own office, and he asked specifically after this one.”

 

Armstrong’s face briefly flashed through anger to an emotionless calm, other than the slight overtone of sarcasm in his words,  “Perhaps you should have started with that, Agent Potter.”

 

Armstrong turned and started barking orders, one hand on the doorknob of their ‘guestroom’ while the other Agents in the room began to scramble.  

 

“Potter.”

 

“Yes Sir?”

 

“We’re headed to the cooler.  Make sure they know we are coming.”

 

“Aye Sir.”

 

And Armstrong stepped back out of the room, while Potter heaved a sigh of relief.

 

\---

 

Belatedly James realized the broken nose man had come back into the room and said something to him.  He looked at him blankly, trying to not show how _angry_ and frustrated and ... _frightened_ he was of all of this.   _The video of Harry seemed to be taking things better than his own father was._  That thought made him straighten up as much as he could, only flinching a little, and meet the red-faced man’s eyes.  “I don’t know what you expect to get from this. But it won’t be anything good.”

 

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say.  James tried to ease the pain in his bound joints, and wondered what Uncle Kenshin would do.  The loop video of Green’s family slowly finished its round, and started over again.

 

Armstrong frowned finally, without responding.  Then suddenly walked from the door to James, and sprayed him in the face again.  As James was fading back out of consciousness he heard. “We will see, Mr. Green. Perhaps you need some more time to think it over.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

**MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 1st, 2155,**

**10:53pm (2253)**

 

When Agent Simmons and Jenkins arrive at the Oxford office, they get there about the same time as a couple of ambulances.  There is a security guard directing medical personnel to the freight elevator, since something seems to be wrong with the main elevator - it’s not responding at all and seems stuck on the 10th floor.  Armstrong watches as Jenkin’s expression goes blank and the color leaves his face while he questions the guard as to what happened. She quickly steps over, “What is it?”

 

“It’s Willow.  The contact was Willow - we must have been too late.” The stress in Jenkin’s voice is making it louder than it should be.  The security guard is looking between the two of them with a resigned expression.

 

“Shit.”  Simmons rubs her temples and tries to collect her thoughts.

 

“Willow?  Questions Daniel.  You mean Green, don’t you.  He seemed...different.”

 

Simmon’s blinks, suddenly intent on Daniel, “You know Mr. Green?”

 

Daniel shrugs, a bit uncomfortable at the attention,  “Ah...I thought I did? He was one of my professors...and..well, he said he was here for a meeting?”

 

“A meeting?” Jenkins seems surprised, “Has he been here before?” He questions Simmons.

 

She just shakes her head, “Not while it’s been my assignment.”

 

Daniel puts the dots together again, not as dumb as most think he is when they hear he dropped out, “Ah...You’re Simmons aren’t you.”

 

Both Simmons and Jenkins regard him intently at his announcement. Then Simmons speaks, “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.  What exactly do you know about this building, and Mr. Green, and who he was looking for?” She is already guiding him over to an empty side office before he notices.  

 

Jenkin’s smiles reassuringly at Daniel when he begins to look like he might panic, “It will be fine, we just want to make sure you are alright!  It must have been a traumatic experience to go through this evening. We also want to make sure that Mr. Green is ok. He is...an interesting man.”

 

The rest of the conversation cuts off as the door closes behind them.  

 

\---

 

Daniel Radcliffe IV had been allowed to return home after their conversation.  Simmons had sent Jenkins to make sure that he made it back to his house ok, but she felt she would need to talk to the Analysts after this.  That boy was wasted in night security. Perhaps he could be recruited.

 

She had been both relieved and appalled at what she had found upstairs.  Agent Banks was there, hand bandaged, and said he had been questioned by Green, and had seen him take out most of the staff.  Seems he had regained consciousness fairly quickly though, and other than his hand and a killer headache, had no significant injuries.  They had compared the list of those on duty to those that had been found, and eventually had been able to locate everyone except the maintenance man on night duty and Agent Warner who had been assigned to escort and find their visitor to begin with.  

 

It wasn’t until they had gotten to Simmon's  office and found the Junior Agent unconscious, but alive and well, that they really started to realize how lucky they had been.  Although Simmons was going to miss those Jammers; they were still experimental, and the last few that she had now in the hands of Green. They had found piles of radios and phones and guns, but no one killed, no one missing. They even found the maintenance man stuck in the main elevator.  

 

Banks had said he wasn’t sure where Armstrong had taken the Greens, but he suspected the secure facility under the hospital, and eventually had gone home to recover.   Simmons stepped in to finish coordinating medical treatment and necessary arrangements for the office. It felt like they were always two steps behind.

 

Simmons picked up the secure phone in what had been the night desk room, trying to ignore the bent letter opener and blood still staining the desk, and called the Director.

 

She picked up before it even rang.  “Yes Simmons?” Llewellyn said evenly.

 

Simmons just stared at the desk, “Willow, Director.  It was Evergreen. We were possibly too late, but…”

 

“But what, Agent?”

 

She couldn’t help the tone of hope in her voice, “No one died.  Director. Injured, some, unconscious, yes. But no deaths. He even stopped to bind wounds before he left.”

 

“Ah...We might….We might make it through this after all then.”

 

“Perhaps Director.  Better chances then I would have given earlier today.”

 

“Very well.  Please report in with anything new.  I’ll send someone to straighten out the Oxford mess in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford,** **United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**10:58pm (2258)**

 

“Who are you?!?!!”  

 

This seems to be a common theme with these Villains.  After his forced nap (is it still a nap if your body just shuts down and makes you sleep?) was interrupted by two noisy agents discussing their patrol so far on the roof, and that they are supposed to “neutralize” their target when he arrives, something about a strong arm...etc etc.  - he decided to intervene.

 

WIthout cracking a smile, he replies in his usual deadpan, “I am Eraserhead.”  His tired brain fires some equally tired neurons, and he realizes after speaking that he’s been understanding the English being spoken without much issue, and replying in kind.  Mic must have rubbed off more than he thought.

 

Aizawa’s hair still flies out in its gravity defying halo, his capture weapon wrapped tightly around the man who had just tried to shoot him.  “Do you usually attack people on sight?” For the most part those he had come across seemed surprised to see him there, and hadn’t just tried to shoot him to start with.  Although a few bullets had come into play later in their confrontations. It was only in the last 20 minutes or so that he had seen more of the tactically dressed personnel  scrambling about like ants, guns already drawn.

 

“That’s freaky - what are you??  I’m just doing my job. You aren’t supposed to be here!” The man wiggles in vain, dangling a bit above the ground.

 

The man’s radio falls to the ground, and Aizawa casually kicks it over the side of the roof. Aizawa relieves the man of his gun and of another odd gun like contraption, and secures him before releasing his capture weapon. He really wishes he know what the local law authority was here.  It would make it so much easier to deal with the cleanup. The man continues to struggle against his bonds, standing up against the wall which he had been propped next to, and Aizawa can hear him bite down hard and say something under his breath.

 

“What was that?” he asks, then pointing the device at the man which he had just confiscated. “And what does this do?”

 

“I don’t have to tell you anything!!” the man bites down again, “( _Rooftop, west section, one unfriendly, repeat, backup requested._ )”

 

This time he can hear the man mumbling to himself, something about backup. Eraser lifts an eyebrow and activates his quirk again. Perhaps this is manifestation of some sort of communication related quirk? With all the random jumping he still hadn’t seen the signs of any quirks so far.

 

He should have been more ready when the man lunges forward, but the lack of sleep had been slowing him down and causing it to be difficult to determine reality from fantasy.  What if he jumped when sleeping? It was unfortunately too real when the man knocked the breath out of him, slamming his shoulder into Aizawa’s midriff, and causing Aizawa to fire the “gun” device he had been absently fiddling with.

 

The man jerks away roughly, falling to the ground and twitching as the taser discharges.  Aizawa, still somewhat confused watches him, and then realizes what the weapon does. “Ah. Well that explains the electrical contacts.”

 

The man, still twitching, falls unconscious.  Aizawa blinks, releasing his finger from the trigger, and tossing the taser over the side of the building also, reaches down and picks the man up over his shoulder.  Stepping back through the roof door, he goes down a now familiar but winding route. Earlier he had found an empty supply room with the key still in the doorknob. He unlocks it again and opens the door with one hand.  Some of those whom he had left in here earlier are beginning to stir. He drops the man against the wall with the others - its getting pretty crowded in here - and then leaves again, locking the door once more. How many more of them could there possibly be?  And who are they hunting?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford,** **United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**11:08pm (2308)**

 

If his ancestors were watching, they were cruel and fickle, and determined to make nothing go his way. Kenshin settled on the rooftop of his final destination, having ruled out the small safehouse closer to the main Oxford Office. It was an old, “abandoned” hospital, south of the main Headquarters, and there seemed to be...an alarming pile of bodies on its roof. Kenshin stood, looking around at the unconscious men on the ground, before his eyes settled on a strangely familiar man.

 

He was tall, taller than Kenshin definitely, and was dressed in dark clothing. He had an off-white or grey scarf, it was hard to tell in the dark (regardless of Kenshin’s uncanny night vision). He was sat atop a pile of knocked out men, yellow goggles pulled up onto the top of his head, arms folded, and seemed to be nodding off when Kenshin approached. The man shot up, eyes glowing red and hair and scarf flying up in a halo around his face. Those glowing eyes landed on him, and suddenly Kenshin had to dodge the scarf as it came flying at him. It snapped around the empty space he’d vacated, and now they stood at a standstill.

 

This man was dead on his feet, but Kenshin knew better than to underestimate an opponent.

 

“You’re not with them.” The man said in slurred English, like his mouth wasn’t used to making those sounds in that order, although it sounded more like a statement than a question. His hair and scarf settled back around his shoulders as he scanned Kenshin’s somewhat torn and bloodied traditional garb, settling briefly on his sword before those no longer glowing eyes lifted back to Kenshin’s face. “You understand me?” He then said in fluent Japanese.

 

“Yes,” Kenshin replied in kind. “Do you know where they came from?” Perhaps this man had information that would narrow his search.

 

“Basement, except that one. ” The man lifted a hand-radio up from the pile of unconscious bodies behind him as he continued speaking, “He was watching the ground, until he got too curious.”  He points out an unconscious brown haired agent. “Had a rifle. Looking for you perhaps?” He lifts his tired eyes back to Kenshin. “They’ve mentioned some people down there. Captives. Those yours?”

 

“The Greens. Family.” Kenshin looked the man up and down. “Are you up to helping this one get them back?”

 

“So formal.” The man grunted. He stepped away from his pile and made his way towards the door that led from the roof. Kenshin fell into step beside him and they began making their way towards the next floor. The man gestured for Kenshin to take one side of the floor while he took the other, and from there they split.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford,** **United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**11:14pm (2314)**

 

Dr. Hampton counts the number of syringes left on the tray, and then back at the still docile and sleeping Green family.  Only two...he could have sworn he had three, but no matter, he must have already dosed him and thrown it in the sharps bin.  Hampton lifts the last two syringes from the tray, and reading the names of the carefully prepared doses, finishes the administration of the drug.  

 

No more of this though, this is just getting too much.  There is no way _children_ are a threat to the project.  He really should have resigned when he had the chance.  Now they are possibly under attack from a hostile force, and he is trying to keep these people quiet.  Frankly, they seem completely human to him. He’s not even sure how they relate to the project at all.

 

After he closes the door to the cell, he heads back to the main room.  Perhaps he can finally get a chance to eat before Agent Harper gets back and he needs to let him back in.  They had disabled the exterior lock to stay more secure once people started disappearing.

 

He sits down with his sandwich in the seat next to the door and takes a bite.

 

“Where the hell is everyone!?”  

 

Dr. Hampton flinches and swallows, setting his sandwich back in the bag.  Must be Armstrong. Bloody Hell.

 

Suddenly there is a banging against the secured door he is sitting beside, and an angry Armstrong peering through the window.  “Open this damn door. Where are the Agents I left to watch the premises?”

 

Standing, Hampton unlocks the door and steps back.  Armstrong strides imperiously in, followed by two agents carrying an unconscious and bound man.

 

“Agent Armstrong, Sir.  All the teams were called out for support with the roof situation, and Harper just left a moment ago to run a quick patrol and make sure the section doors were secure…” Dr. Hampton trails off as Armstrong spins to face him, his face going even more red if possible.

 

“You are under attack at this location?!  Why didn’t anyone report that before we switched bases?”

 

Hampton blinks, he is definitely not getting paid enough for this.  He just frowns, “Sir, Harper did try to report it to Banks, as you instructed.  He didn’t answer. You said you wanted no direct communication between teams, and it was supposed to be coordinated through Banks.

 

Armstrong is beginning to come loose at the seams. This whole operation, no, this whole entire minging bloody muddle is falling apart around him.  There has got to be a way to salvage this. He runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Sure, he had given those orders, but he hadn’t expected everyone to not report to him if they got no answer from Banks!

 

Potter and Murphy have wisely retreated down the hallway to deposit the unconscious Green with the rest of his family.  At least it will be easy to contain them in one location.

 

Armstrong slams the secure door shut and begins pacing while Dr. Harper continues. “The Greens are still in the cell.  No sign of the primary target from what I hear. No side effects from the dosage we have given them - they are all still out from the last dose -  But I won’t be able to dose the baby any further without causing possible damage.

 

“Damage??!”  Armstrong looks like he is about to have a fit.

 

Dr. Harper glances at the clock on the wall and excuses himself quickly, “Ah, I need to check on this latest...thing.  Sir.” He disappears through a side door just as Armstrong collapses into one of the chairs against the wall.

 

Armstrong gathers his emotions back to himself, taps his fingers against his wrist and speaks to the empty room “Alpha and Bravo, report.”

 

Silence.

 

“Alpha and Bravo, report.”  He tries again.

 

Still nothing.

 

“Marks and Iskarak, Report immediately.”

 

Only silence greets him.

 

“Bollocks!”  he yells louder than he should, and he can hear a door close further down the hallway. That damn Doctor is probably hiding.

 

“Harper, Report.”

 

He gets a barely audible “Sir, target sighted, secure hoURCK” before there is no further response. Locking the secure door they had just entered, he runs down the hallway to where the Greens are being held, and locks himself in with them.

 

The woman is beginning to stir - the Doctor must not have dosed them as well as he thought.   He draws his gun...He can just picture the smug bitches’ faces when they find out this all went south.  Dammit, this is not the plan!

 

Maybe he can conceal his presence in here long enough for Evergreen to rush in, then all he’ll have to do is subdue him and he can still pull a win out of this bloody mess.  Armstrong quickly shifts beside the door, and tries to keep an eye on the hallway through the window.

 

What he is not expecting, is an old man to jump on him with a syringe and jab him in the neck, “Take that, you wanker!!  Ruin my birthday!”

 

Agent Armstrong fires his gun in the ensuing struggle and there is a cry of pain when the bullet ricochets off the wall. But surprisingly, the old man gains the upper hand quickly as the drug takes effect, and Paul (the 7th) only staggers a bit to regain his balance when Armstrong falls to the floor unconscious, bleeding a bit from the score of the syringe on his neck.

 

Harry rolls up from his cot, crying. The pain has awoken him from the drug and he holds his arm, blood welling up from between his fingers.  James and Kami were beginning to stir in the background.

 

Paul quickly runs over, “Harry!  I’m so sorry lad, let me help you now...sit here..” He sits his grandson on the closest cot, and examines the wound.  “Looks like it hurts!” Harry just nods and gasps for air, his lower lip trembling and tears rolling down his cheeks as he tries not to cry.

 

“It’ll be ok lad.  Just some shrapnel, no lasting harm done. Here...let me wrap that up for you.”

 

Harry sniffles while his grandfather uses his own overshirt to wrap around the shallow wound on his arm.  Paul pulls it snug and wipes the tears from his face, murmuring softly, “Such a brave lad. Chin up now.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 **Abandoned Radcliffe Hospital, Old Molecular Biology Wing, Oxford,** **United Kingdom, June 1st, 2155,**

**11:29pm (2329)**

 

Kenshin steps into the basement hallway, and his ears catch the sounds of his companion behind him. The distinctive yellow of the man’s tactical goggles catches the dim light of the old LEDs. Kenshin nods at him, and the man nods back. From there, they return to their search. They go through many empty rooms; surgeries, storage, etcetera, before Kenshin’s hand finds a locked door. The handle doesn’t budge, and he makes eye contact with the dark man from across the hall. The man nods, ready, and Kenshin forces it open.

 

Behind it, a man dressed in a lab coat cowers behind a hospital bed. The Battousai is upon him before another noise is made, and soon the man is tied and gagged, being dragged behind them by the long scarf Kenshin’s companion wields as a weapon.

 

It’s nearly ten minutes later when they come to the last door of the sprawling facility, also locked. Kenshin props the doctor on the wall behind them, and this time Scarf kicks open the door.

 

“Blimey!” Paul shouts from behind it, and that’s all Kenshin needs. He bursts in behind Scarf, and his almost glowing golden eyes land on the stirring form of a strange, military man with a broken nose; on the floor beside the open doorway. It takes almost two seconds for the samurai to pick the man up, hold him by the collar against the wall, and have the bladed edge of his sword at the bastards’ throat.

 

“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” The Battousai growls, and Bastard whimpers. “You have five seconds.”

 

“Uncle!” James says, appalled, but Kenshin does not waver. Rage fills his every vein. He watched impassively as a small line of blood chases down his captives throat. Another whimper, this time from Kenny. James covers his son’s eyes. “Don’t look, son.”

 

“There are children here,” his dark haired ally reminds him. “And death is the easy way out; let the courts deal with him.”

 

“Uncle,” Paul emplores. “We’re fine, let him go.”

 

Kenshin’s resolve wavers, and that is all it takes for the man to slide gratefully down the wall. His arm drops, hand shaking at his side, but his sword remains tightly in his grasp. There is a moment of silence, before James sighs in relief. Kenshin’s eyes fade to violet as they settle on the man at his feet, who looks at him with a brand of fear he hasn’t seen in nearly four hundred years. He lifts his sword arm again, and the whole room flinches.

 

“Uncle-” James starts, stepping towards him, but the sword comes down-

 

-knocking the man unconscious with the dull side.

 

“You were lucky today,” Kenshin says to the sleeping man, and he turns to his family. Kami has woken up, and pulls him into a one armed hug, the other clutches Kenny against her side. James isn’t far behind, reaching around to embrace them all, and he feels Harry’s arms wrap around his leg. Kenshin wraps his arms around them, and holds them close.

 

Scarf smiles slightly, the most emotion he’s ever seen from the man, and Paul laughs a bit. Reluctantly, Kenshin lets his family go to check on them. No one has serious injuries. The most serious by far is Harry’s arm and James’ broken fingers, but Harry seems to have forgotten it in the comotion, and it doesn’t seem to need any immediate attention. After Scarf wraps the arm in actual bandages and lets the overshirt fall to the floor, Kenshin lifts the military man, Armstrong as James tells him, over his shoulder.

 

“What will you do with him?” His companion asks him. It was more of a subtle reminder; don’t kill him. Kenshin smiled at the man, patting Armstrong on the leg.

 

“This one will be taking our friend to talk with his boss.” Kenshin said. The tired man shrugs and leans against the wall, pulling out a _very familiar_ looking pouch from somewhere on his person, and he lifts it to his lips.

 

“Oro?!” Kenshin exclaimed in surprise as the man suddenly fades away, “The yellow Banilla!”

 

The old samurai huffed, watching helplessly as his ally fades from view. _Already gone! Now how was he meant to get answers?_

 

“Where-? How did he..?” James stuttered, and Kami, baby in arms, sympathetically patted him on the back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Emergency Incident Centre, London MI5 Offices, New Building, United Kingdom, June 2nd, 2155**

**1:05am (0105)**

 

“Director, what do you mean we have to mobilize?” Board member Sterns demanded, his image flickering. “So what if Armstrong practically defected? Simply send the team to apprehend him and his men-”

 

“Sterns,” Llewellyn growled at him, “You aren’t listening. The man that Armstrong targeted could very well dismantle our government if he felt like it. He has lived in peace with us for the few hundred years he’s been here but Armstrong’s actions-”

 

“Hundred years?” Stearns spluttered.

 

Board member Atwell spoke up. “Director?”

 

Llewellyn swung to face _Atwell's_ hologram, wishing (not for the first time) that the members were _actually_ present to receive a good beating, when their blue images disappeared from around her.

 

Blinking in the sudden darkness of the council room, her gun now in her hand, she points it at the first noise she hears. The lights come on again, and she saw that her guards too had their guns pointed at the daunting figure of the very man she’d just been talking about.

 

Swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, was Armstrong.

 

Evergreen begins the walk towards her, across the carpeted floor, and the guns of her guards follow him. She quickly raises her hand to the guards hoping to prevent any further incident.

 

He drops the-thankfully-just-unconscious Armstrong at her feet with a limp thud. Her eyes flew from the floor to meet the violet eyes of legend.

 

“I _do not trust you,_ ” the man said, quietly, and some of the guards lean closer to hear. “But I trust that _this_ will not happen again.”

 

The lights flicker once more, and the Battousai is gone.

 

“Lower your weapons,” She says. “And get me Simmons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! We return! With a new chapter! 
> 
> I like this chapter a lot, especially the end (but that's because my Dramatic Ass(TM) wrote that part). Hopefully you guys enjoyed it, too!!  
> Just in case you want to check it out- we have a discord!! Check it out here: https://discord.gg/hF69Pmb
> 
> We hope to see you there!!


	11. The only road that I have ever known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger...
> 
> OR IS IT???! 
> 
> Muahahahaha
> 
> I suck at summaries
> 
> Time passes, things happen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! SO sorry it has taken so long to get this one out, but it's been busy in real life! 
> 
> It's a bit rough still, but that's what you get when I'm writing by myself, lol. Popjeckdoom listened to me and we tossed around ideas, and she sort-of beta'd for me (I read it out loud and she mostly ignored me while she played on her computer, lol)
> 
> She has been working on the short story transition to Japan, which will be part of the same AU, so you can look forward to that!
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think -- your comments give me life! :D

 

**MI5, Oxford Research and Observation Office, June 7th, 2155,**

**Morning**

 

Senior Agent in Charge Simmons smoothed her suit jacket, and tucked her hair neatly behind one ear.   _ Perfect. _  Stepping into the boardroom she turned and walked briskly to the head of the table, and everyone took their places.  

 

The meeting was quickly brought to order, but Simmons still speaks a  _ bit _ quietly, subconsciously causing those around the table to lean forward to hear what she was saying.  “First off, I want to thank all of you for your hard work this last week. I know it has been a difficult and sudden adjustment for some of us, and there are a few who will not be returning to this office at all.  I do hope that I can expect quality from all of you, and that if you have a concern, you will bring it to my attention, or to the attention of your chain of command. Do any of you have a concern you wish to raise now, before we get started?”  

 

A few of them shift in their chairs or glance at their fellows, but none speak.

 

“Very well then,” Simmons continues, “First order, Project Evergreen, also known as Willow, is being...reassigned.  The project team will be broken into other projects, so if you have any personnel preferences please get them onto my desk by this afternoon.  There will be no contact with Evergreen or the associates of that project without strict permission from me, and verification of that permission from the Director.”

 

She meets each of their eyes in turn, lingering briefly on Senior Agent Banks who lowers his eyes to the table and his still bandaged hand, his expression tight.

 

“I will  _ personally _ see to it that anyone who disobeys this order is permanently re-assigned to the Antarctic research base - if you survive.  Am I understood?”

 

A muted chorus of “Yes” and “Yes Sir” answers her, and Banks looks back up, meeting her gaze clearly. He nods once, and she turns her attention back to the group.

 

* * *

 

**Oxford, England, St. Leonard’s Churchyard, June, 7th, 2155,**

**Morning**

 

Dejectedly he sat on the stone bench, head in his hands.  The sun was shining, birds singing, but today was not a happy day.  It had been a very long time since he had felt this torn in his purpose, in his care of others.  It had also been a long time since he had last sat on this bench, in the early summer sunlight.

 

“Happy Birthday, Henry.”  Kenshin murmured, lifting his violet gaze to the weathered headstone across from him.  The smoke from the incense he had lit curled upward in the cool morning air. “I need…” he stopped, started again, “I wish you were here to give me advice.  I miss our discussions, our letters.” 

 

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward, and running his hands through his hair - a habit he had never been able to break, and clasping them momentarily behind his neck while gazing at the ground. “I just...They could all  **_have died_ ** Henry.  They could have died and  _ it would have been my fault _ .”  His voice cracks a bit and he falls silent. 

 

For a short while there is only birdsong, and then he can hear someone coming up the path.  Taking a deep breath he sits up, meeting eyes with Paul, who’s recent birthday had been so eventful.  The guilt settles into his gut even further, pain flashing across his face more openly than usual.

 

“Uncle,”  the older appearing man murmurs as he creaks into the seat beside Kenshin, setting his cane to one side. “I thought I might find you here.”

 

“I felt I should...speak with him.”

 

“I know.”

 

They fall into companionable silence for a while.  Kenshin slowly begins to relax, the tension partially lifting from his shoulders.

 

“I am so very sorry.” Kenshin almost whispers, “If I had even the slightest idea they would go after the family, I would have left long ago.”

 

Paul tenses up, “Left?  What do you mean? You are a part of this family, Himura Kenshin, and we would not have it any other way.”  He rests one hand on Kenshin’s shoulder in reassurance. 

 

Kenshin looks up, meeting Paul’s gaze with questioning eyes. “Would you still have said so, if it had cost lives?”

 

Paul sighs and pats his shoulder, “You know I cannot answer that, Uncle.  I do think though, that it is time to tell them.”

 

“Tell whom?”

 

“The rest of our family, Uncle.  Not just myself as the eldest - All of us.”

 

Kenshin frowns slightly, his voice gaining strength and conviction, “You know why we decided just to tell the eldest.  It’s a hard tale to believe, and a difficult secret to keep. You’ve seen what happens when others find out. First hand!”

 

Paul flashes a grin, briefly looking like his namesake, “Don’t you think that’s why they deserve to know?”

 

Glancing back over at Henry’s grave, Kenshin falls silent, lost in thought.   _ Is this your way of answering my questions, old friend? _

 

Eventually, Kenshin stands, reaching out to offer a hand to his companion, and nods, “Very well.”

 

* * *

 

**Oxford, Kenshin’s Flat, United Kingdom, August 1st, 2155**

**Late Evening**

 

“So…”, Kami was obviously having trouble wrapping her mind around all this.  After all, she had just married into the family, she hadn’t grown up with it. “... You are...invulnerable?  Everything just heals?”

 

“Well, no?  I mean, I do not know.  I think I could be killed.” Kenshin shifted a bit uncomfortably.  It was so much easier to address a class of students or a board of professors than his own family.  He glanced at the light on the jammer he had placed on the table before this discussion, making sure it was still on.

 

“And you served in the war with Great great great…”, James was trying to count back generations on his fingers, eventually giving up,  “With Henry Green, the painter? The one in the Navy?” 

 

“And his son, yes.”

 

“You knew about this the whole time and said nothing?”  James suddenly confronts his father, and Paul looks up. 

 

“I did.  Long ago, the family and Kenshin decided that only the eldest would know the truth, and make it easier to keep the secret.  I have contacts with the government, as my Mother did, and they and we help provide a new identity for Uncle Kenny every 40 years or so.”

 

“So why tell us now?”  Kami asks, adjusting a sleeping Kenneth the 1st in her arms, Harry well occupied in the other room playing video games.

 

“My existence as part of the family... “ He trailed off, frowned, and then looked up, meeting her eyes. “I had wanted to protect you.  To watch over the family of my dear friend, my Family, as long as I could. As a secret it was easier, since I do not know why I have lived so long or when that might end.” 

 

Exhaling, he looked at them each in turn, “But I have become a danger to you.  My existence and help was not enough to keep you safe, and in fact it caused you harm.  I - I do not want anything to happen to you on my account.” 

 

_ There are already enough marks against me. _

 

His eyes flashed with sadness as he looked at the sleeping child, named after  _ him _ , or at least who he had been trying to be, and then down at the floor. “We need to decide what to do from here.”

 

“But weren’t those men from the Government?  The same one that is supposed to be helping?” James asks.

 

Kenshin nods, turning his attention to James, “Yes.  Which is why I want to include you _all_ in this discussion.  Why Paul thought it best - “, he glances at his older nephew, “- to include your thoughts.  I do not think it will happen again, but then, I did not think it would happen the first time.”

 

“I think you should stay.” Paul speaks up.

 

James looks at his father, and then over at his sleeping son and his wife. 

 

Kenshin just waits while James gathers his thoughts, glancing between him and Kami.

 

“I  _ want _ to say that I think you should stay.” He lowers his eyes to the ground, conflict in his expression, “But I also think that you being so close to us could have gotten us all killed.”

 

“James!”  Paul interjects. “He’s the one who got us out!”

 

“You’re the one that got us out!  You stabbed that monster with the needle!” James calls out, too loudly.  Kenneth, startled awake, scrunches up his face and begins to cry a bit fussily.

 

“Shhh, shh, back to sleep with you…”  Kami gives her husband a reproachful glance and rocks her child, trying to calm him back to slumber.

 

James glances at her and Kenneth with a wince of apology, and then continues in a quieter tone, “I understand and appreciate all you have done for our family...and I love having you as my Uncle, and I know that Harry enjoys your company -”  he exhaled a long sigh, “I just...I don’t want to ever be in that position again.” His hands are trembling, memories flashing across his face.

 

Kenshin is familiar with trauma, and knows its effects.  

 

He looks up from his nephew’s trembling hands and scans each of their faces before responding, “I do not ever want you or anyone else to have to go through such things again.  I will stay for a while longer, and see how things go, but I think it perhaps best I take a step back from -”

 

Paul starts to interject and Kenshin raises a hand, halting his words, “Hear me out.”

 

Paul frowns and presses his lips silently together, his objection obvious on his face.

 

“ - I will take a step back and watch more from a distance.  If you wish me to visit, you will need to let me know. If you have something you need me to deal with, you will have to let me know.”  Kenshin raises his violet eyes to Paul and then looks over to James, “You all know how to contact me...if you want me there.”

 

Paul still looks as if he objects to the whole thing, but he remains silent.  James and Kami nod. Kami halfway smiles at Kenshin, and quietly speaks, “Harry will miss you around.  Please come at least to birthdays?”

 

Kenshin just looks back at the ground and nods, schooling his face into an impassive mask.

 

* * *

 

**Oxford, Lecture Hall, August 16, 2158**

**Mid-Afternoon**

 

Kenshin finishes cleaning the board, preferring old fashioned white boards or chalk to the more modern touch boards available elsewhere on campus.  After finishing he walks over and sits at his desk, surveying the empty seats. He hasn’t seen any of the Green family for a while, but Paul had called to invite him to Kenneth the 1st’s birthday party that evening.  

 

Ironic that the child who was named after him, wouldn’t really know him other than as a fellow who visited once a year.  That is if they kept inviting him to visit. James had stopped calling entirely. If only it was as easy to stop caring as it was to stop visiting.

 

With a sigh he stood, and gathering his keys and phone, locked up the room and began the walk to the station.  Although if he had learned anything in his thus far long life, it was that everyone he cared for eventually passed out of his life, one way or another. 

 

Flashing his pass, he boarded the train, and took a seat facing the front.  A young woman with bright purple hair sat next to him, messing with her phone.  She kept taking her headphones out and putting them back in, as if there were some sort of problem with them.  

 

About three stations later she mumbled a curse and looked up, shoving her headphones in her pocket.  “Do you mind if I watch this with the sound on? My headphones died.” She lifted her phone, showing him a paused newscast.

 

“It doesn’t bother me.  Feel free.” He replied.

 

She smiled and rewound the video to the beginning, starting it up again. The tinny speakers of her phone burst to life as she raised the volume. 

 

     “...bring you this breaking story from China, where a newborn baby was discovered to glow in the dark.  So far it does not seem to be any type of radiation, and does not seem to be causing any harm to the child.  Mark, is it true that doctors have already confirmed that this is not some sort of elaborate hoax?”

 

“That’s right Anne, this has been confirmed by doctors both with the League of Nations as well as from the US, Germany, France, and China.   The glowing appears to be some sort of natural phenomenon, but as yet, they are unsure what could be causing the effect.”

 

“That’s truly amazing Mark!  Perhaps it is the sign of more amazing things to come.  We will keep you up to date on this story as well as more, on the nines.”

 

Kenshin can’t help but watch the story along with his violet haired companion, and is somewhat disappointed when she gets up to leave the train at her stop.   _ Glowing babies.  The world just keeps getting more interesting. _

 

* * *

**Oxford, West Lecture Hall, April 27, 2183**

**Early-Afternoon**

 

Professor Himura (actually going by his own name this time around) finished grading his last batch of essays on the Expansion of Imperialism during the 15-1900s, ran his fingers through his hair and looked up, scanning the empty classroom.  The late spring sunshine through the windows made dust motes dance in the air. Glancing up at the clock, he realized it was already much later than he had thought, and he wasn’t going to have time for lunch before his next lecture. He had just looked down and started pulling out the drawer of his desk,  _ perhaps I have cup noodles or something _ , when he heard the creak of the doors at the top of the hall.  

 

One of his students, Caroline Marchent, a quiet, spiky brown haired, and moderately pretty girl, was peering into his classroom.  She noticed him at his desk and slips the rest of the way inside, hesitating a bit as the door shut behind her. “Professor?” she paused, and spoke a little louder, “Professor can I speak to you a moment?”

 

“If you don’t mind my eating while we talk.”  He smiled at her to take the possible sting from his words, and pulled a bag of crisps from his desk drawer as she walked toward the front of the room.  He popped the bag open as she hovered in front of his desk. “What can I help you with?”

 

She smiled hesitantly and pulled a chair over to face him, sitting down.  “I wanted to ask if there is anything I can do to improve my grade for the semester.  I know we are almost to exams, and that I was out for almost two weeks of class, but I really do have a good reason!”

 

He lifted one eyebrow skeptically and popped some chips in his mouth, waiting.

 

After a moment of silence, she continued, “Well..maybe not a  _ really _ good reason, but I do have reasons, I mean, it’s embarrassing sometimes....  I have already finished all of the work for those weeks, but since you have a policy of not accepting late work…”  She trailed off expectantly.

 

“What is?” he asked, picking through the bag of crisps for one that was folded over - those always had the most flavor.

 

“What is what?”

 

He shifted his attention to her patiently, “What is embarrassing?  So embarrassing that you couldn’t be in class for two weeks?” Another couple of crisps were eaten while she hesitated uncomfortably.

 

“So - turns out I’m venomous?” she kind-of half chuckled, with no real mirth.

 

Kenshin blinked, it was still somewhat uncommon to have those with quirks in his classes, uncommon enough that he hadn’t even realized she had one, “Venomous?  Like a snake?”

 

She flushed and stuttered, “N.no...just, my spines.” She lifts her hands to her head, and pulling some of her locks aside reveals thin short spines concealed mostly in her hair. “So, he startled me, and ah... I shoot them when grabbed from behind in the dark?”  She winced. 

 

He lifted one hand, _ really _ not wanting to know the particulars of that situation, “And so you were out for two weeks?”

 

She continued, words tumbling over each other from her mouth, “So...yeah, he didn’t think it was anything but a bad sting, you know, but by the next day he had a fever, and so we went to the hospital, and - I’m venomous.  Not all the time! But when startled I guess I release venom into the spines reflexively? I just...they had to find the anti-venom, and he was in a bad way, so I stayed mostly with him.”

 

Kenshin was surprised she hadn’t needed to take a breath in the middle of all that. “I see.”

 

“So - any chance I can turn in that work? I really did do it on time, you can check the date stamps if you want?” She watched him hopefully, her hands clasped dramatically in pleading fashion in front of her.

 

Glancing at her hands, his lips twitched a bit at her earnest expression. “I can see how that was out of your control...so I will allow it this time.”

 

“THANK YOU!” She burst out and jumped from her chair, then sat again , “Um, Thank you professor!”  She practically vibrated.

 

“If you take another class from me however, I expect you to get your work in on time.  You can even send it to me digitally if that is easier.” He smiled at her and waved her off, “I need to get back to these papers. Just have everything in my box before tonight.”

 

She stood and almost ran up the aisle, “Thanks again professor!”  She waved again and slipped out the door.

 

Kenshin grinned at the door as it swung shut and sat back in his seat, enjoying the sunshine coming through the windows and the flavor of his crisps.  So excitable, these children. He finished his bag of chips, tossed the empty bag into his recycle bin and looking at the time, decided to go ahead and change the board to the next class.  His students would be trickling in soon.

 

* * *

 

**Kenshin’s New Loft, July 9th, 2183,**

**Early Evening**

 

Kenshin stood on his balcony, the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees in the center courtyard, and the clouds scuttling across the blue sky.  It was a surprisingly nice day. It had rained a bit earlier in the week, and the evening was pleasantly scented with flowers which bloomed on his neighbor's patio.  

 

He wasn’t expecting anyone.  He didn’t have anyone to expect these days.  The last time he had visited with the Greens was at Paul’s funeral, and that was a few years ago.  None of them had contacted him since. His latest identity papers had just been sent by mail, not even a letter accompanying them.  

 

He occasionally would check up on the family, watching from a distance.  Just to make sure they seemed happy, or at least content. He couldn’t bring himself to speak with them though.  James had made his feelings clear. And he had to respect their wishes. Not even Harry had reached out, although Kenshin thought he might after Harry left to attend Cambridge.  Kenshin had even avoided moving for a few years, just in case...but here he was now - new flat, new neighbors, new ID.

 

He poured himself a cup of plum wine and set the bottle on the side table.  He sipped it more slowly than usual. Trying to enjoy the solitude.  _ Perhaps I should get a cat.  I could name it Mochi...the 37th.  _

 

It was with some surprise that he heard knocking.  He glanced back through his apartment to the front door.   _ Probably someone for the neighbors, or a delivery person got lost. _ He downed the last of his glass of wine, and set it beside the bottle.

 

Even more surprising, whoever it was knocked again after a moment, when he didn’t immediately answer.  

 

Curious now, he left his wine forgotten and went back through his home to the door.  Opening it, the first thing he noticed was it wasn’t just one person, it was many in the narrow corridor.  The second thing he noticed was the chocolate cake. He blinked.  _ Oh _ .

 

He smoothed his expression and considered the middle aged man blocking most of the rest of his view with the cake. 

 

“So...Mr. Himura.  Do you remember me?”  The man smiled tentatively. “Or should I say, Professor Green?”

 

With a shock, Kenshin realized that he did recognize him - or his voice at least, “Oro! Daniel?”  You work with….” he paused, his attention immediately going to the man who finally had come fully into view behind Daniel, and felt that shot of disbelief all over again, “Oro!  Harry? What...why?” He had temporarily lost the ability to make coherent sentences. Unfortunate, considering his profession given that he needed to speak regularly.

 

Daniel, who had smiled when his old professor recognized him after all, tried to help him out. “We can explain everything, but it would be easier inside?”

 

Feeling surprisingly numb, Kenshin still had years as an “Englishman” to fall back on, and so promptly stood aside, “Of course, please come in.  I’ll get - “ he glanced at the cake again as Daniel walked past him, “some plates.”

 

Harry smiled halfway at Kenshin as he stepped past, “Hi Uncle. It’s been a while.  He gestured behind him at the younger Green and a young woman who was with them, “Do you remember Kenny?”

 

Kenshin blinked, incredulous but thrilled to see them again, finally, and in his home! “Harry, how could I forget any of you?”  he smiled warmly at Kenneth the 1st, and the mystery woman, “Although, you have grown a bit since we last spoke.”

 

Kenny nervously smiled, and put a fond arm around the beautiful asian woman beside him, “This is my wife, Yukiko.”  

 

Her brown eyes sparkled as she watched him get plates from the cupboard, “I know we haven’t met, but I wanted to meet you since Harry tells such wonderful stories.” Her voice was smooth and held an overtone of curiosity. 

 

They all sat at his table, and Daniel had taken the lid off of the cake and sat as well.

 

“Harry, and young Kenny -” Kenshin flashed a grin of pure joy as he passed out plates and set a knife near the cake.  He also looked over at Daniel and regarded them all questioningly, “I am very pleased to see you, but - why, I mean, how is it you are here?  James made it clear he wanted no contact…” He trailed off as their faces sobered, and Kenny looked almost as if he might cry. 

 

Kenshin took in their mood immediately, and shifted his weight, poised to spring into action if needed, “What has happened?”

 

Harry just shook his head, and after Daniel glanced at Yukiko who was comforting her new husband, he turned to answer, “There was an accident in traffic about a week ago.  James and Kami - they didn’t make it, Professor.”

 

Kenshin felt his face drain of blood and he sat.   _ How could he not have known this?  He had been trying to keep track of everyone from a distance, but James…  _ “Was anyone else -?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, and felt the conflicting feelings within him.  He was terribly sad that James and Kami had died, but also, he had some hope, and felt  _ terrible  _ for having hope with the boys here, in his home.

 

Kenneth spoke up, “No Uncle, they were in the car by themselves.”  His voice was a bit rough with unshed tears. “Father had, he was actually -”

 

Yukiko spoke up for him, “He was coming here, to invite you to our reception.” She half smiled, “He said he had held a grudge for long enough, and it was time for family to be together.”

 

Kenshin felt the tears come unbidden, and he lowered his face, closing his stinging eyes.  _ James, after so much time?  Why not sooner? I would have come back anytime you asked. _

 

Daniel stepped in then, quietly, “James was the only one who had known your current address, and so they contacted us - I mean, MI5 to get back in touch with you.”

 

_ So that  _ was why he was with them. “Ah,  _ cake.” _  It wasn’t the time for it, but Kenshin couldn’t help but think that young Daniel had grown up more neat and clean cut then Kenshin had expected. This middle aged Agent at his table was certainly that, and much more certain of himself, than young Daniel had seemed.

 

Kenshin tried to lighten the mood a bit, wiping his eyes he half smiled at his nephew, “Harry, I am surprised you contacted them after your experiences with the - I mean, breaking Agent’s noses and all.”

 

Harry snorted a laugh, “Well you know me, I won’t take things sitting down. And well, we missed you, Uncle.”  He titled his head a bit, momentarily surprised, “You know, you look exactly like I remember you.” 

 

Kenny the younger smiled also, recovering a bit of his composure, “We had to honor his last wish.” 

 

“Excuse me,” Yukiko interrupted, “but why did you say, ‘Ah cake?”

 

“Oro?” Kenshin laughed,  “Sorry, it’s just that they always bring cake.  Chocolate, usually.”

 

Daniel looked sheepish, “We weren’t sure if you would recognize me after so long.  I mean, we have been trying to stay out of your way, and your file said to bring an offering…” he trailed off.

 

Henry looked curious now, “Is that why you had chocolate cake at your house so often?” 

 

Kenneth just looked lost.

 

“Hmm, I suppose?  Agents came by more often those days.”  Kenshin flashed a grin at Daniel, trying to take the sting out of his words.

 

“An offering?”  Yukiko looked somewhat nervous, “Your Uncle is a spirit?” She questioned her husband under her breath, who still looked lost.

 

“Honestly love, I have no idea what they are talking about.” Kenny grinned and stood up, and taking the knife, began to cut the cake and pass it out to everyone.

 

“I’m just myself, dear Meisan.” Kenshin quickly answered, and lifted his fork, determined to enjoy this time with his Family.

 

* * *

 

**Oxford, Train Station nearest to West Lecture Hall, September 4th, 2183**

**Mid-Morning**

 

Kenshin was looking forward to class today.  He straightened his sword belt over his blue yakima, and considered himself in the mirror.  Leaning forward, he was pleased to see that he had a few white hairs mixed in with the red, and there were almost invisible lines around his eyes.  At least he could confirm he was actually aging!  _ Damn yellow pouch! _

 

He sighed and went back to considering his overall appearance. It was somewhat eerie to see himself like this, but he thought it helped to try to introduce his students to traditional Japanese with well, some Tradition. He picked up his lunch from the counter and hurried to the station.

 

It was a beautiful day!  Only a little bit of chill in the air, and the clouds were low, but the leaves were starting to turn and the breeze was lovely.  Kenshin boards his usual train, and recognizes one of his former students across the car as he sits down. Caroline Marchent also recognizes him, and with a grin she waves, although she doesn't take her ear-buds out.  Kenshin can tell she is listening to music, because over the course of the ride she occasionally mouths words and bobs her short spiky hair or feet along with the beat.

 

Caroline exits the train first when they arrive at the station, and heads toward the bus terminal and the crosswalk to campus.  Kenshin walks more slowly, waving at those he knows and smiling to himself at the odd looks his clothing receives. The 9:00 bus arrives near the pedestrian crossing, and begins to disgorge its load of students headed toward campus, along with the usual businessmen and women who start off in other directions.  Kenshin pauses for a moment when he notices the light turn, waiting for the signal to walk. 

 

Caroline, bopping along to her music, keeps walking around the bus stop, and steps forward along the pedestrian crossing to campus.  

 

It was Kenshin who notices the car speed around the parked bus, impatient to get on it’s way, and his mind and body have sprung into action before his words could find a way to warn Caroline what was about to hit her.

 

She looked up in time to see the car about to run her over, absolute horror on the driver’s face.  In fear her spines shoot out, just as she feels herself hit from behind and pushed out of the way.

 

Kenshin and the vehicle meet with a crash of metal and a heavy thud, and he rolls a short way before he stops, facing up at the sky and lying on the pavement.   _ Itai! _ he thought to himself, coughing and trying in vain to catch the breath which had been forced from him.  _ Ow, getting hit by cars hurt! _

 

Caroline pulls herself up from where she fell, and quickly runs over to his side, “Professor!  How did you..! Are you hurt??!” 

 

Kenshin tries to reassure her and sit up, but he can feel his ribs grinding in his side, and that awakens the yell of his other injuries to his mind.  Bollocks, it’s been a while since he’s broken so many bones at once. The last time was when he fell from a tree trying to retrieve someone’s cat. He lifts his un-broken arm, trying to conceal that the other is still almost useless at the moment, and pats her reassuringly on the shoulder. “I’m ok..just a few scrapes!”

 

Forcing himself to sit up once he thinks his ribs have at least started knitting back together, he coughs again, and notices the small porcupine-like spine lodged in his arm.  He plucks it free with some amusement -  _ guess she had been telling the truth _ \- and cracks his neck to loosen it back up.

 

Caroline looks like she might pass out or burst into tears, and sits down roughly next to him where she had been crouching, “I’m so sorry Professor!  Oh no!” She hesitantly reaches out and plucks another of her spines from the side of his face, then she really does burst into tears.

 

“Ahhhh! Don’t do that!  You could have a neck injury!”  The driver of the vehicle is hopping around in the background, a scrape on his face seemingly the only injury.  

 

“I’ve called an ambulance.  Just stay still?” A woman says from behind him.  

 

He gratefully feels his arm snap back into place about 5 or 6 minutes later, at the same time the ambulance arrives.

 

“Do not worry, Miss Marchent, I am alright, see?  He shows her his arm that he had been concealing, where a moment before the bone had been sticking out of his skin.  He was both a bit sad and happy to see it was healing nicely, and she stared in awe as the wound closed over completely and looked as if it had been already healing for a week or longer.  

 

Standing with only a wince, he greets the startled ambulance personnel with a small bow as they run over, “I am alright!  Please do not worry.”

 

“But what about the venom?!”  Caroline bursts out as one of the paramedics begins looking him over, trying to figure out where the blood both on him and on the ground came from.  The other turns to the driver of the vehicle who his holding his head and muttering about impossibilities. 

 

“Miss Marchent, I will be fine!  I heal very quickly. I will probably only have a headache at worst from your venom, after all, I am Asian!”

 

Then he blinks, “Oro! I am late for class!”

 

\----

 

Later that day, Senior Agent Daniel Radcliffe IV stood in front of Director Simmons' desk, and watched her review the footage of the incident.  He grinned back at her when she looked up, “Either he’s immortal, or he had a quirk before quirks were a thing.” 

 

Simmons laughs, “Well, seems it doesn’t matter either way.  Good to see that all the rumors of his healing prowess were valid though.  Make a note in the file? “ she considered, “You know, he really could be a god, and we would probably never know.  I’m glad he’s been here though - how high is the count now?” she met Daniel’s gaze questioningly.

 

“Of those he’s saved? Hmm, over a hundred now I think.  Although spread out over the last few years. Seems it picked up a bit when he had that fall out with the Greens.”

 

Simmons smiled to herself, watching the footage again, “Good, I’m glad he’s doing well.”

 

* * *

 

**Kenshin’s Loft, Roof, July 27th, 2204,**

**Late Afternoon**

 

“Thank you again for letting us crash your home for Kenny’s birthday party.  He’s having a blast!” Yukiko smiled at him warmly from behind her large sunglasses, lounging comfortably on the deck chair beside her husband, who was nursing his third beer.  “He doesn’t get the chance to swim often.“ she had turned her attention to the youngest member of the Greens and his 3 friends, who were splashing each other in the pool. The radio played something peppy in the background.

 

Kenshin’s complex had installed the rooftop pool and lounge area only a couple of years before, and he had rented it out for a few hours.  Thankfully the weather had cooperated, and Kenshin was able to enjoy the rooftop with his family. 

 

“How is your new job going?”  Harry asked, as he sat down beside Kenshin, handing him a cold mixed drink.  

 

“Not bad - I was unsure how different it would be to teach young children, but I admit I am having fun.”  He recently had assumed a new identity as Paul Kenshin Green, since his appearance after the car accident had unfortunately regressed so far.  His now “21” year old self was teaching english and history at a local international primary and secondary school.

 

“I have learned a lot of interesting slang Japanese and French as well, although I’m not sure how much of that is common use, and how much is just children making up their own ways to communicate.” He flashed a grin at Harry, who smiled back.

 

The music stopped suddenly in the middle of a song, and the tone for a breaking newscast played, “We interrupt your regular programming to bring you this news alert.  Quirk Wars and infighting have now broken out over most of East Asia, as countries fight to bring order to their populace. Those with quirks are swiftly becoming the majority in many areas, and this has caused unrest in some cases.  In Tokyo, Japan, where the quirk rate has risen to just over 55% of the population, the quirk registration commission headquarters was recently overrun by citizens declaring themselves “The Purist Army”. We will bring you more on this developing story as it is available, but for now, we will return to your regularly scheduled programming.  The music resumed.

 

Kenshin sighed, _ It seems my homeland is once again at war, only this time with itself. _

 

Kenny the 1st murmured something to his wife, then stood up after checking his watch, “Ok boys!” he called out, “Time for cake!”

 

They wandered over to the covered area, and sat at the table.  Kenneth the 1st uncovered the cake while the boys wrapped themselves in towels and joined them in the open seats.  Harry lit the candles, and they all sang Happy Birthday to Kenny the 2nd, who was turning 5.

 

After cake was presents, and Kenny gave Kenshin a big hug at his gift of a Bokken, at which Harry smiled reminiscently.  Kenny quickly ran over to show his friends, and of course Kenshin got out some practice blades and some padded armor for the boys, and they ran around trying to hit each other for a while.

 

After parents had come to collect their children, and it was just Kenshin and the Greens on the roof, Yukiko turned to Kenshin with more questions. “Uncle Kenshin, When...I mean, how long have you been watching over the Greens?”

 

“Hmm,” Kenshin thought, “A very long time!” He was about to tally up the years when Kenny ran over and flopped tiredly in his lap. 

 

“Thank you Uncle Kenshin, I love the sword!” His green eyed, 5 year old nephew grabbed his face, turning it to look at him instead of his mother and smiled, “It’s like the one in your mind pictures!”

 

“Don’t go making up stories, Kenny.  It’s not nice.” his mother reprimanded. “His teacher said he’s been making up all sorts of tales about his classmates.”

 

“I’m not making them up!” Kenny insisted, and turned his eyes to Kenshin again, his hands still grasping either side of his face, “Some of Uncle’s pictures are very sad.  And people wear funny clothes!”

 

“Kenneth!” his father interjected.

 

But Kenshin raised a hand to stop him, and continued looking at the boy with curiosity, “What pictures do you see now child?” Kenshin asked him softly, thinking of Henry Green painting a stream for him, so many years before.

 

The boy tilted his head to the side and smiled at his Uncle, “I see a pretty forest, and a man painting near a stream.  You’re wearing the sword pants like you do when you practice, and you are watching him. Who is he?”

 

Kenshin closed his eyes for a moment, stinging a bit with tears at the reminder of that memory,  still sweet after all this time. “His name was Henry, and he was my friend.”

 

* * *

 

**Oxford International School, Classroom 4, June 10th, 2231**

**Late-Afternoon**

 

“So who can tell me about a current event that is of international concern?”  Kenshin asked in English to his 8th year international students. They had already packed up their books for the day, and he wanted to make sure they remembered the vocabulary for the week.  They were working on conversational speaking and current events at the same time.

 

One of his students, a delicate boy with a quirk that made his hair change color with his mood, raises a hand.  

 

“Yes, Mr.  Janvier , go ahead.”

 

“Well I heard that they have declared the Quirk Wars officially over after twenty-four years in Asia and twenty in Europe, since the last country that had non-regulated quirks has joined the international community to also regulate...quirks.”

 

“Very good Piere, excellent use of vocabulary.  You might want to think out the entire phrase before you begin speaking though.  What do you think that means for us, here in England, or in other countries, if we are not citizens?”

 

A few of his students raised hands.

 

Ignoring those who had already answered earlier in the discussion, Kenshin singles out a boy with bleached blond hair in the back row, who was staring out the window. “Mr. Yamamoto, what do you think?”

 

The boy quickly looked back to the class and licked his lips, trying to formulate his answer outside of his native language, “We will probably need more documents or a license, or a card to register our abilities when we travel?”

 

Sara Marchent (coincidentally related to a woman he saved once) and with similar spiky hair, insistently kept her hand in the air throughout the answer.

 

“Yes, Ms. Marchent?”

 

“Some countries already require all citizens to register their quirks, and provide services to schools and medical facilities to help with quirk related problems.  In America, you have to disclose your quirk in order to travel there from other countries, or even to get a hotel or housing. It also may be harder or easier to get citizenship depending on the quirk.”  She announced clearly. The boy sitting next to her rolled his eyes at her smart reply, making his deskmate snicker.

 

“What problems can that cause?” Kenshin continued, tapping the boys desk and shooting them a warning glance.  He was about to point out another student to answer when the chime signaled the end of school. Kenshin smiled as his students immediately fidgeted in their seats, anxious to get out and to the weekend.

 

“You are excused!  Do not forget your homework!”

 

Mr. Kenshin Green smiled to himself as his last student ran out the door, and he turned to grab his own things before locking up.  Perhaps it was time to move on to another place soon. He had been teaching at this school for a long time, and people were beginning to notice he didn’t look like the others his ‘age’.  Tabling that thought for now, he glanced at his watch. If he hurried, he could still make it to the station before the next train left. He was supposed to meet Kenny (the second!) for drinks that evening.  

 

He jogged across the school grounds, and vaulted the back gate without losing his stride. Luck was not on his side however, as he rounded the lane he could see the train pulling out of the station.  With a groan he slowed to a walk, easily catching his breath and mentally reorganizing his evening due to the missed train. He was about to pull out his phone to text Kenny that he would be late, when there was an ominous roll of thunder. The darkened sky chose that moment to open up, and within moments Kenshin was soaked.

 

With a sigh, Kenshin took shelter under the nearest shop doorway.  After wringing out his shirt and shoulder length hair as well as he could, he slipped inside of the small corner market.  The shopkeeper nodded to him and went back to her magazine. Still dripping a little, he quickly located an umbrella and was debating over ready meals from the freezer, when he heard a harsh voice from the font and the shopkeeper cry out with alarm.  

 

Kenshin quickly slinked over to the side of the isle, keeping himself from view.  He briefly looked out to assess the situation before slipping back behind the shelving.  A scrawny looking teenager in tight jeans, and wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face was leaning over the counter.  He was scooping cash out of the till and stuffing it in his sweatshirt while the shopkeeper stumbled around yelling in obvious pain from the dark substance which had been sprayed on her face.  He seemed to be alone.

 

Springing into action, Kenshin used his newly acquired umbrella to sweep the kid as he ran up beside him. The kid fell sideways, landing roughly against the counter and falling to the ground. from his sweatshirt.  “Bugger off man!” yelled the kid as he kicked with his heavy boots at Kenshin’s knee and then rolled up, spitting something dark and viscous at Kenshin’s face.

 

Jumping to the side Kenshin was very glad of his excellent reflexes.  He avoided the liquid which splashed on the wall behind him, and used the umbrella to strike the teen aside the head.  The teen staggered as he almost lost consciousness, but shook it off and ran forward with a growl. Kenshin followed through with a sidestep and spin, switching his grip to the other end of the umbrella and hitting his attacker with the hard wooden handle as he passed.  The kid crumpled to the ground. 

 

Kenshin quickly ran behind the counter and located the alarm button, pushing it to summon assistance. He then turned to calm the shopkeeper who had sunk to the ground and was gasping and crying in pain, hands and face covered in the same tar like substance.  “He’s down. Are you ok?”

 

“It’s in my eyes!  I can’t see!!” She gasped in panic.  “It burns!”

 

“Help is on it’s way. I’ll get something for your face...”  Kenshin wasn’t sure if it would be better to leave it on her or try to wash it off.  Some things reacted badly with water. 

 

He pulled out his phone and pushed the emergency call button just in case, and then ran over and pulled a package of paper towels off of the shelf. The teenager was still unconscious on the floor, the bent umbrella fallen next to him and cash spilling out of his sweatshirt.

 

“What is your emergency?” Asked the voice on the line.

 

“We were just attacked by a teenager with a quirk.  Looks like it may be a mild acid or tar like substance that he spits?  He’s knocked out, but the lady here is in a bad way.” Kenshin headed back behind the counter, opening the paper towels.  “I pushed the alarm button for the store, but I wanted to make sure medical personnel are also sent.” He crouched back down next to the trembling woman and tried to wipe some of the dark substance off of her hands.  

 

“Thank you. Please, my eyes, it hurts!” 

 

Kenshin wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or the man on the phone.  The operator answers, “Sending them to your location, please leave your phone on until they arrive.  Estimated...3 minutes to arrival.”

 

“Got it, we are standing by.” Kenshin replies.  The woman falls quiet, only whimpering a little and trembling.  He pulls her jacket off the hook it’s hung on behind the counter, and drapes it over her shoulders. “Hey, I’m still here.  Can you tell me your name?” He wrapped her hand around a paper towel. “Here is a napkin if you want to try to wipe your eyes or face. I do not want to make anything worse for you.”

 

“Fatima.” She says, her lips trembling.  Her tears were mixed in with her makeup and the black liquid, causing streaks down her face.  Her skin was red and irritated, beginning to blister, and she didn’t seem able to open her eyes.

 

“I am Kenshin Green, Medical personnel are on their way.  “Are you allergic to anything? On any medications?” 

 

She raised her shaking hands to her face, and began to wipe some of the odd substance off with the towel. “No, nothing.” she answered finally, holding out the soiled towel, which Kenshin took from her and tossed in the bin under the counter.  She still didn’t open her eyes, although she seemed to be trying to do so.

 

Kenshin noted the flashing lights against the fogged front windows of the store as the police or security pulled up, “It looks like someone is here now.  Are you doing any better?” Then woman just nodded, still trembling.

 

Standing, he went around the counter and held the door open, rain coming in with the two police officers who had responded.  One of them turned to him to ask what had happened, and the other pointed out the shopkeeper and the unconscious teenager on the floor.

 

He made it about halfway through his explanation before the boy on the floor began to stir.  The teenager had already been bound by one of the responding officers, and thrashed around a bit, cursing them loudly.  He didn’t however seem as inclined to try to use his quirk when so outnumbered. Fatima was ushered out into the ambulance as soon as it arrived, and although one of the medics checked out the teenager, he was escorted off with the police.

 

This left Kenshin completely unsure what to do, since he had already given his contact info in case they needed an additional statement.  He stood in the store doorway, and suddenly realized he didn’t know how to lock up.

 

An hour later, Kenshin had managed to clean up a little, find a key, lock the doors, and turn the lights out.  Unsure what else he could do, and not wanting Fatima to get in trouble, he slid the key under the door. 

 

It was only afterwards that he realized he still didn’t have an umbrella, and he had forgotten to text Kenny. A moment later, he discovered he had also locked his phone inside the store.

 

With a sigh, Kenshin trudged back out into the rain, and the rest of the way to the station.

 

\--

 

Across the world, in Japan, a woman held her newborn son, “My Toshi!” she smiled, and kissed his little blond head, snuggling him close.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Popjeckdoom :D. I think Llew did great on this chapter, despite what she claims. Next is the Short Story, with some Familiar Characters from another super-hero show 👀👀.
> 
> Put your guesses in the comments.
> 
> We have a Discord, now!!  
> https://discord.gg/6fDn8Rv  
> Come say hi!!


	12. I thought that maybe I could find myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miraculous things happen in France, but you don't get to know that yet.
> 
> All things return home, and this time, Kenshin tries to find his way back to where he started. The plot thickens, and ID is required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I know it has been a while (sorry sorry!) but Real Life reared it's ugly head and we have been dealing with that. I have a new job! Which is wonderful, but it is also eating up all of my time. Also, my co-creator decided that I'm not allowed to post chapters unless I have backlog chapters, so it has taken me a while to get a backlog sorted out. I have been pestering her unmercifully about letting my post, so here it is! Yay! 
> 
> I do want to say Thank You for all the amazing comments and Kudos that we have gotten on this story so far. Your comments bring us life (and sometimes, motivation, lol)!

**CHAPTER 12 - I thought that maybe I could find myself**

 

**London MI5 Offices, Director’s Office, United Kingdom, June 7th, 2286**

**11:15am (11:15)**

 

Director Gallagher stood, a bit surprised that it hadn’t been some sort of joke.  The man really did exist after all, and he was standing this very moment in his office.   _ Brilliant _ really.  Amazing that he had been here so long -  _ documented _ \- and yet only appeared around his early thirties.  Gallagher repressed the urge to ask about the things in this file, and schooled his face into impassivity.  With a pleasant smile, he rose to greet his guest. “Good Morning, Mr. Himura. It is truly a pleasure to meet you.” He shook Kenshin’s hand and gestured to the seat facing his desk, and then sat as the man sank down into his own seat. “I must admit, I was surprised to receive your request.  It has been years since you’ve come into any of the offices, and this request in particular ...well, suffice it to say, it was unexpected.”

 

Kenshin quirked his lips in a quiet smile, tilting his head slightly at the man facing him and relaxed back into the chair. “It is time.  You have others now who can watch, and protect.”

 

Gallagher slid a memory drive across the desk, as well as a manilla envelope. “Here is what you asked for, a complete copy of your file here; as well as your new papers, under your original name of Kenshin Himura as requested.  The movers will be there tomorrow to collect your household goods. Also -” at this he pulled out a cream envelope of obviously expensive paper, “This is from his Majesty, who wishes you well, and he thanks you again for your service a few years ago to the family.”  

 

Kenshin peeked into the manilla envelope, noticing a passport and other items before he dropped the memory stick inside.  Looking up, he reached across the desk to take the envelope Director Gallagher was offering. His name was hand written in a flowing script on the back, and he noticed the watermark on the paper of Buckingham Palace. “Anyone would have done the same.” He said as he looked back up at the Director. “His Highness just made a few bad choices, so do many of the young.”  Kenshin flashed a smile at the Director and slid the envelope into his jacket pocket. He’d read it later.

 

Standing, Kenshin extended his hand again, and the director shook it. “Goodbye, Director.”

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Himura.  Please know you are welcome to return any time.  We will maintain your citizenship in the records, and you can resume residence if you choose to do so.”

 

Kenshin looked briefly startled, “Oro! Ah, Thank you.  I will keep that in mind.” He grinned genuinely at the man, and then turned to go.

 

* * *

**Osaka Airport, International Arrivals, June 26th, 2286**

**7:24am (0747)**

 

The first few flights had been wonderful.  

 

Kenshin loved the feeling of flying, and enjoyed watching as the buildings sank out of sight below and the world became small.  He also enjoyed watching those around him. Some nervous, some flustered or busy, others obviously tired or bored. Such a wide range of reactions to the same thing. The novelty of flying had admittedly worn off a bit after his third international flight in as many weeks, and this one was the longest thus far.  

 

He had cut his stay in the United States short.  Despite spending so long in the UK, he had been unprepared for how loud and brash Americans could be, especially after his adventurous trip to France.  Even their heroes seemed over the top, and frankly, there were too many people out using their quirks in public to make the rurouni completely comfortable. He had almost been involved in a few fights without even looking for trouble.  After the latest close call, when he had needed to run from the police and villains alike after stepping in to help someone, he had decided he had seen enough of the US for now, and it was time to go back home.

 

Home.  

 

And now here he was, but it was - so different.  

 

The light of the rising sun reflected sparkling off of the ocean before they had descended and then headed inland. He could see the sprawl of the city as the plane had come in, and when he left the plane and headed into the airport he couldn’t help but feel a conflicting rush of sadness and joy at coming back.

 

He exited with the rush of people, eager to leave the confines of the aircraft.  He grinned momentarily when he realized all the signs and most of the conversations he was hearing were in Japanese.  It really had been...so long. He browsed a bit through the shops on his way to the luggage claim.

 

Finally, he stepped up to the exterior terminal doors after collecting his bags, and with a deep breath he stepped back into the country of his birth.  

 

* * *

**Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward** **, Kyoto, Japan, June 26th, 2286,**

**3:30pm (1530)**

 

After storing his bag in his room, Kenshin couldn’t wait to get back outside.  The train ride had been quiet, with a bit of rain clouding the windows and only breaking back out into sunshine when they got closer to Kyoto.  He left the hotel, and without really making a decision on where to go, took a walk along the riverbank. He couldn’t help but enjoy such a relatively cool day for summertime.  The bamboo grove was still nearby, and some of the buildings, while remodeled and kept up to date, still retained their original charm.  

 

Tomorrow he would head into the city.  He had purchased an atlas of Japan at the airport, and he wanted to try to find where the old dojo had stood.  It had been one of the first places he had truly felt at home, and he needed to lay some ghosts to rest. He had paid for two weeks at the hotel, but he needed to decide what he would do with himself.  _ ‘I’m home, but it is not really home now.  What should I do with my life?’ _ It was time to move on, do something useful.  Perhaps look at his long life as less of a curse on himself and those around him, and perhaps as a way to do something more, something better. 

 

Sitting on a bench by the riverbank he pulls a paper from his pocket, and carefully unfolds it.  Staring up at him was the farewell gift of Kenshin 2nd, who had provided him with some old memories before he passed on.  He studies the faces of Myōjin Yahiko, Sagara Sanosuke and Kamiya Kaoru smiling up at him, the dojo in the background. Without Kenny’s quirk, he would only have had this image fading in the depths of his memories.  Now he could look at them any time he wanted. Sanosuke had never allowed his picture to be taken, sure that it would steal his soul, but he did have one photo of Kaoru besides the drawings that Kenny had made for him.  He had so many refreshed memories to review. It was truly a gift without price.  _ ‘I will miss Kenny’ _ , he thought, much as he missed Henry, Kaoru, and the others who populated only his memories now.

 

Carefully he re-folds the paper and returns it to his pocket.  Relaxing into the bench, he enjoys the feel of the late afternoon sunshine and the breeze through the trees, and the sounds of the river and the city.  

 

He was back.  It was different.  _ I am different. _

 

* * *

**Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward** **, Kyoto, Japan, June 27th, 2286,**

**11am (1100)**

 

Kenshin blearily opened his eyes, and for a moment is completely disoriented. The sun had traveled through the sky far enough to shine through his window, and was now full in his face.  With a groan he rolled away from the sunlight. He could hear the air conditioning unit kick on. The well lit traditional room still had modern touches enough that Kenshin was able to orient his waking mind to his present time and location.  Slowly he stands up from the futon, raising his arms up into a languid stretch, which he drops out of with an exhaled huff. He needs to dress for the day and get moving. The jet lag must have hit him harder than expected, to still be sleeping at nearly mid-day.  He is already late for his plans!

 

He checks his phone for the weather, and pulls out a little used simple red and grey yukata from his luggage and pulls it on. It’s too hot for western clothing!  He pauses for a moment, just taking in the fact that he is back in Japan, and a quiet smile curves over his lips. Wearing traditional clothing and surrounded by the little things that remind him of Japan, he feels more like his  _ old _ self then he has in years. He pulls his hair into a low ponytail at the base of his neck and steps in front of the mirror. 

 

Like a blast from the past, really. _Perfect._

 

However, he does cave to some modern convenience, grabbing his shoulder bag and phone charger before leaving his room.  After getting some coffee from the lobby, he stops to send the letter he had written the night before to Kenny the 3rd, and then heads out into the city.

 

After a short visit to the library and a discussion with a helpful historian, he decides to grab something to eat. He has the most wonderful curry he has had in years and shortly is on his way to Shizuoka on the train.  Based on his memories and comparing old maps with his new atlas, the dojo was somewhere near Tokyo.  

 

He is amazed at the sheer variety of people he sees in Japan now.  When he had left, things had been almost insular, but now there appear to be people of every shape and color and nation on the train with him.  He watches with obvious interest as a group of university students board the train at one stop, and he can pick out three or four different languages.  He has a hard time not grinning like an idiot as blond haired, pink eyed girl with curly horns sits across from him in a business suit, texting someone on her phone. He notices a couple other students on the train, and is surprised when they go up and fangirl a bit at the blond woman, saying something about a sports festival. Japan is wonderful!

 

It is early evening by the time he arrives at a small station in Musutafu.  He has transferred trains a few times already. ‘ _ I should have packed clothes for the night - this is going to take much longer than I anticipated! _ ‘ Granted his memories of how long it took to travel were skewed from his weeks of wandering, and drinking, and random violence.  His memory really wasn’t the best judge of distance. Or time.

 

There are some traditional looking buildings on the street he walks down, as well as some obviously newer built.  One building he walks by is taped off, a warning sign posted that it is off limits to the public due to villain attack caused damage.  ‘ _ Are villain attacks really so common?’  _ He pauses for a while just staring at it, earning a few odd looks from those that pass by.  Realizing he must look out of place, he flushes a bit and continues on his way.  

 

He heads away from the larger streets near the station and into a more residential area, trying to match anything from his memory to his current surroundings.  Eventually he stands and blinks at a cafe that is near a park with a stream. ‘ _ I think. _ . _ this is...near where the main town was _ .   _ Yes.  There was the old restaurant - now an apartment building.  So if I turn at the road here…’ _

 

A short walk later, and he is staring in stunned surprise at a traditional building of two stories surrounded on both sides by taller new buildings. The lights inside on the ground floor are on as the light outside fades, and he can see people through the windows practicing martial arts.  The instructor, a woman with brown hair pulled back from her face, easily sidesteps and throws one man onto the mat, and then helps him up to try his attack again. Two of the other students face off with practice blades further back in the building.  

 

He lifts his eyes to the sign above the doorway.  It reads Myōjin dojo. Shock sinks into his chest and he shivers as he tries to bring what he is seeing into his reality. ‘ _ But that...it’s impossible.  He died in the fire..?!’ _

 

He can’t help but slip inside, and he is greeted with a cheerful hello and a welcoming bow by a girl that appears in her early teens. “Are you here to practice? Or just to watch?”

 

“To watch please, I just wanted...I am out of practice.” Kenshin smiles at her as he takes it all in.  The dojo almost smells the same as his memory.

 

She smiles and gives him another short bow, directing him over to the wall behind the students, where there is a wooden bench. “You can watch from here.  If you choose to join in practice, you will need to fill out some forms first.”

 

“Thank you.”  He sits, and enjoys watching the remainder of class.  The teenager must be related to the other instructor here, because she calls out to her mother that they have a guest tonight, and the other woman waves before returning her attention to her students.  About an hour later, the class wraps up, and students begin gathering up their things and trickling out into the night.  

 

Kenshin stands and goes over to a wall of photographs while waiting for people to clear out so he can talk to the instructor.  There are so many framed photos: pictures of the dojo and surrounding town which are more recent, as well as photos going back through time of instructors and students.  He finally stops in front of one of the oldest photos. It is in an antique looking frame in a place of honor. His eyes scan hungrily over the picture of the newly built dojo with a smiling adult Yahiko and a young woman standing out front.  He grins at the obvious pride in which his old friend stands, and the subtle fondness that the woman seems to hold for him.  

 

_ How is it possible?  _  Yahiko would have been in the dojo when the fire hit, and there had been no known survivors.  Had he left too soon? Was he one of those who was taken away for medical care before Kenshin stopped digging through the rubble? His breath hitches with surprised pain.  _ Did this one abandon his chosen family when they needed him most? _

 

He blinks away the phantom tears, and suddenly spies another picture, one of a much older Yahiko and what appears to be his wife and family, and then finally, he spots it - a restored picture of the  _ old _ dojo, which based on the trees and things he remembers around it, seems to have been where the new one is now. It is odd to see it again, this snapshot of his old life. He can see the image of himself smiling back at him beside Kaoru and the old doctor.  It was most likely taken the same day as the photo of Kaoru he has back at his hotel.  Suddenly he remembers he had needed to hold the smile so long his cheeks began to hurt, so that the picture would even develop properly.

 

Kenshin can feel his emotions still close to the surface as he faces the conflict of his loss with what he had known.  ‘ _ At least Yahiko appears to have ended up happy.  Would he have been so content if this one stayed?’ _

 

His thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough and a “Sumimasen deshita” and he quickly wipes his eyes and turns to the instructor with a bow. 

 

“No, please excuse me!  I did not want to interrupt your class…” 

 

She smiles welcomingly at him, “It is no trouble!  Welcome to Myōjin dojo. I am Myōjin Kimiko and you already met my daughter Amiko.  Can I…” but her words trail off as she notices the scar on his face and a flash of recognition passes her eyes.  “..Help you?” she belatedly finishes, looking between him and the picture on the wall. After a moment, she clicks her tongue, dismissing her thoughts as impossible and smiling at him again.

 

“Ah, Yes, sorry. I am Himura Kenshin, and I was - well, I happened to come this way looking for my old home.  Could you please tell me more of your dojo?”

 

She blinks, “I’m sorry, did you say you are Himura Kenshin?”

 

* * *

**Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. June 28th, 2286**

**5:40am (0540)**

 

It is early morning by the time they finish talking.  Kenshin feels more emotionally wrung out than he has in years, but really quite jubilant at finding the descendants of someone he had known before he left Japan.  They had invited him to stay the night on the couch in their home, which was upstairs from the dojo. He was supposed to be sleeping, since he and Kimiko had talked well into the early hours of the day, but his mind was too busy at this latest development, and his body still fighting jet lag.  

 

After another half hour of tossing and turning he gives up, and pulling on the borrowed hakima pants they had loaned him (being short on men’s clothing) he goes downstairs to the dojo.  

 

He warms up, using old techniques mixed with new, and then selecting a practice blade from the stand, he begins going through now ancient forms.  Smooth with use and long practice, he easily slides from one to the next, the familiar surroundings bringing out the joy he once felt in the old movements.  Wrapped up in himself, he surprisingly doesn't notice he gains an audience until he hears a gasp when he slips into the old style and steps impossibly fast to strike his imaginary target.

 

He looks up to see both Kimiko and Amiko sitting on the stairs watching him.  Amiko claps and grins brightly, “Please, teach me!”  

 

Her tone is so close to echoing her ancestor that Kenshin can’t help it and barks out a laugh, “You do not want to learn from an old man such as myself.”

 

Amiko appears confused, having been sent to bed well before that part of the discussion had come up the night before, “You’re not old.  Are you a pro?”

 

Kenshin just blinks and glances at Kimiko, unsure what her daughter means. 

 

Kimiko sighs, “Please do not bother our guest.  He is older than he looks. If he wants to teach you he will, but we should honor his visit by being polite.” 

 

Amiko huffs but lets it rest, “Yes mother.” She mumbles.  “But he didn’t answer my question.”

 

Kenshin walks over to the stand and replaces the practice blade.  “If by Pro you mean someone who makes their living by being a Hero, no.  I am a teacher, “ he can see she is about to interrupt again, and so he lifts one hand to forestall her, “of English, and Japanese, and history.  Not of martial arts.”

 

She huffs again.  “Well, you could. You are good at it!” She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting like a child.  “Even mother can’t move that quickly in her forms. Is that your quirk?” She perks up. 

 

“Amiko!  Manners!” Kimiko admonishes.  “Please forgive my daughter,” she directs to Kenshin, “We do not often have guests!”

 

Kenshin laughs lightly, “Oh, it is no problem.  Young Yahiko was much worse.” He makes a wry face, “He used to call most of the women we knew ‘old hag’.  I hope that was something he grew out of.”

 

Kimiko still looks amazed at the information about her ancestor, but she laughs at this tidbit, “Well, from what I know, he was well loved by his wife and students, so I suppose he did.”

 

Amiko frowns unsurely, “Wait. Do you mean Yahiko our founder?”

 

Kimiko’s mouth snaps shut and she glances apologetically at Kenshin before turning to look at her daughter, “Amiko, please go make tea and get things ready for breakfast.”

 

“But Mom!”

 

Kimiko just looks at her daughter steadily until she huffs her way upstairs.

 

Kenshin muses, watching the doorway she disappeared through, eventually turning back to Kimiko, “You can tell her if you feel she should know.  Everyone needs to learn to keep secrets.”

 

Kimiko just sighs, “She will learn.  It only takes one secret told to the wrong person.”  She smiles, attempting to lighten the mood, “Shall we go upstairs?”

 

Breakfast goes relatively smoothly, and Kenshin leaves later that morning after a shower. Kimiko extracts a promise that he will return, and sends him off with more information than he started with.  He knows for sure now that he must register a quirk. Those who register as quirkless are often looked down upon, and may have a harder time finding employment. He also knows that he needs to become a registered citizen again. He should prove he is who he says he is,  _ somehow, _ in order to find work more easily. He subconsciously pats the pocket which now holds a paper with the quirk registration office address. 

 

Kimiko even gave him instructions to the address of where he remembers the shrine having been from the closest train station. He will need to go there soon. ‘ _ Hopefully they still have the painting, but the papers would also be useful to re-establish myself _ .’ 

 

He can’t help but smile indulgently as two children run across the road in front of him, dressed as heros, and fighting some sort of imaginary villains. He does feel some sympathy for Amiko and her desire to be a hero.  He knows what it’s like to want to help. She had spent a good deal of the time her mother wasn’t paying attention begging him to teach her. Silently he resolves to help her prepare for what he is told is a very difficult exam.  He won’t teach her the ancient style he learned as a child, but physical training would not go amiss. She only has a couple years until she will need to decide on a high school.

 

He considers going straight to the Ministry of Justice to try to prove his citizenship, but quickly realizes he left all of his personal documents from his real identity back at the hotel.  Instead he decides not to waste the day. Stopping briefly by a clothing store and a convenience market, he gets a change of clothes and some toiletries, and then gets on a train heading out of the city. 

 

It is time to visit the shrine.

  
  


* * *

**Forgotten Mountain Shrine, Japan.  June 29th, 2286**

**Mid-Morning**

 

It had been a short taxi ride from the train station to the town he remembered visiting for supplies. Soon he is on his way up the mountain again, and much like his first visit, with a small bag of rice he had purchased in town. He takes a deep breath as he stands at the base of the mountain trail, and adjusting his pack to sit more easily, he begins his journey.

 

The trail is more overgrown than he remembers.  In town he was told the shrine does not get many visitors besides locals, although for a few years it was popular as a place to ask the kami for luck.  The main building was rebuilt after the quirk wars, when it was unfortunately burnt to the ground, but most of the outbuildings are now gone. From what he is told, only three people live at the shrine now.  The weight of the age of nature around him seems more heavy than he remembers, and he feels more like a foreigner than he has all day. He had hoped it would be like coming home to walk these paths again, but this is not his home any longer.

 

His legs begin to ache with the effort of the climb.  As he hikes, the sun bakes through the trees and the sounds of a few small animals and birds and his own breath are all that accompany him. Sweat beads on his forehead and stings his eyes. He had forgotten how hot it got up here during the day, especially in the summer.  He stops at a familiar rock and sits a while to cool down. It is on this climb that he begins to anxiously realize how important the things he left behind are to him. 

 

_ Henry’s painting. _ He hadn’t intended to be gone so long. It wasn’t until Kenny had described the scene to him that he had remembered how comforting the painting had been. How it had calmed him when he needed it with the memories it held. It had been a reminder that he had people that cared for him.

 

Soon he stands and begins again up the mountain.  And falling into a rhythm, the world becomes the steps he takes, the breath in his chest, the sound of the forest around him.  He finally finds some of the peace he remembered as he continues up the path. Eventually he looks up as the path evens out, and the shrine is there before him, only this is obviously more new, and a small gate is across the trail.  The clearing is also shaped differently after all of this time. The stream is now lined with stone, carefully guided in a path to be more pleasing to the eye. A small pond has been added at some point, with a tiered pagoda and koi fish lazily swimming about.  Parts of the original building are still there, but it has changed almost beyond recognition.

 

Kenshin sighs, but continues up through the gate, and then steps with some relief into the shade inside.  His eyes adjust to the low light, and he is startled to see a fox out of a fairy tale dressed in a green yukata come into the room.  The fox, who bows with his white tipped tail twitching back and forth, greets him. “Welcome. If you are here to visit the shrine, please clean yourself here.” And the fox gestures to a small fountain of water near the inner door. 

 

_ ‘He speaks!  It’s a man?’ _ Kenshin can’t help but stand in startled silence for a bit too long. He has so many questions!  His eyes widen and his cheeks flush as he realizes how long he’s been silent, he continues, hoping he wasn’t too rude.  “Please!” he finally says, “here is a donation for the shrine.” He places his pack on the floor and pulls out the bag of rice. Offering it to the fox-man with a bow, the man-fox-person steps forward and accepts it from him. Kenshin continues, “I do not need to go in, but I wanted to ask after some things I left here a long time ago.  Are you whom I should ask?”

 

“Oh!  I suppose I might know.  How long ago did you visit?  If it was within the last few months we may still have your items here.  If it was more than a couple of years ago, they might have been given away or lost in the fire.”

 

Kenshin flinches subtly, “It was - a very long time ago.  I am searching for a painting I left here, along with a few small papers.  They were all packed together in a chest of cedar that I left in the care of the head monk.”

 

The fox quirks his ears curiously, ( _ It is cute, and rather distracting! _ ) “I am afraid I don’t know of anything like that.” ( _ Kenshin wonders if his fur is as soft as it looks _ ) “But I can ask the current head monk, if you would like to wait here?”

 

Kenshin nods as he catches up to the conversation, and stepping over to the side of the room, sits down on the tatame to wait near a small table.  The fox briefly appears again to pour him some tea, ( _ and oh he has paws! _ ) and then departs to find the other monk. ‘ _ Does the tail help him balance? Does he have to make his own clothing?’ _

 

About twenty minutes later, the fox returns with two other men in tow. Both looking disappointingly normal “I realized I forgot to ask who you are?” states the fox, “This is Nakamura and Kobayashi, and I am Kitsunemoto.

 

Kenshin stood and bowed to the three men, “I am Himura Kenshin.”

 

Kobayashi blinks in surprise, “Himura.”  He stopped, mouth opening and closing a few times while he gathered his thoughts and the other two monks watched him in confusion. “Did you - visit here?”

 

Shaking his head negatively Kenshin replied, “I lived here, for a few years, but it was a long time ago.”  he glances at the walls, “Long before they rebuilt.”

 

Kobayashi runs his hand absently through his hair.  “Is that...even possible?” he says to himself, obviously not meaning to be answered.

 

“Oro! my apologies!  I am just trying to find out if the painting and papers I left are still here.”

 

Nakamura steps in, noticing that Kobayashi doesn't seem to be able to form a coherent answer at the moment. “Do you have identification?  Can you describe the painting or papers?”

 

Kenshin pulls out his UK passport as well as his current visa, and shows them to Nakamura and Kitsunemoto. “I have my passport from England and at my hotel are my papers from before I left the country, but unfortunately I have not yet been able to re-establish myself here in Japan.”

 

Kobayashi seems to use Kenshin’s words as a way to gather himself. “Well, we can not help you then.  You need to have current identification in order to claim lost items. Please return when you have that from the Japanese authorities.”  Nakmura and Kitsunemoto stand slightly behind Kobayashi, and obviously defer to his guidance.  

 

Kenshin sighs, noting their united front.  “I see, please continue to keep those items for my return.  I will come back when I have what you need.” ‘ _ Do you need a license for everything here?!’ _

 

He packs his passport carefully back in his bag, slinging it back over his shoulder.  He can’t help but smile once more at Kitsunemoto, whose tail is still twitching.

 

Kenshin bows, and leaving the shrine, begins the long walk down the mountain.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :D 
> 
> Make sure leave comments and kudos, Llew requires validation to survive and I don't mind them either :b  
> Come say Hi on Discord! We talk about the story, share music and other fanfics, the works! Hope to see you there!  
> https://discord.gg/hF69Pmb  
> -Popjeckdoom


	13. How to Prove You Are You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin meets some new friends, and some old friends, and discovers just how hard it is to convince the government that he yes in fact, is himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is LLewtwo back to say hi! I've been struggling a bit to find time for this, but I promise it isn't abandoned. Popjeckdoom has been working on some spin-off/crossover bits to go along with this, along with the next two chapters. She tells me when I am getting too wordy :D She did give me permission to go ahead and post this one though, so here it is! 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Super excited btw for the next couple chapters after this ^^
> 
> Come say Hi on Discord!!! https://discord.gg/hF69Pmb

 

**CHAPTER 13 - How to Prove You Are You**

 

**Riverside Hotel, Nishikyo Ward** **, Kyoto, Japan, July 5th, 2286,**

**9:13am (0913)**

 

He is glad Kimiko agreed to let him store some things at their house.  It would have been much more difficult to drag all of his luggage with him around the city.  As it is, he checks out relatively quickly, although earlier than he originally intended. It doesn’t make much sense after all to keep traveling back and forth to Musutafu from the hotel.  He has managed to consolidate the most important items down to one large bag, which he drags behind him to the train station. His sword is wrapped and slung over his back - he wasn’t about to leave it anywhere and it doesn’t fit in the suitcase.  He does notice a police officer watching him curiously as he purchases his ticket for the train. Kenshin smiles at her and the woman flushes and turns away.  

 

20 minutes later he is on the train, and settled in for the ride.

 

It’s quieter this trip then the last one - the car mostly filled with business people and a few of the older generations.  He does notice one oddly dressed man in bright purple, who seems to be covered partially in soot and is snoring against the window.  A child across from the purple man with his mother, tugs at her clothing and seems to be asking her something about the man, gesturing excitedly.  The woman smiled indulgently and takes a picture of the unconscious man with her phone, showing it to the boy. He hugs her and she and pats the boy’s head.  

 

Kenshin’s eyes go back to the tired fellow. _   He must have had a hard night? I wonder why the pictures though? _

 

* * *

 

**Ministry of Justice, Tokyo, Japan, July 5th, 2286**

**2:30pm (1430)**

 

Eventually, after traveling a good portion of the day, Kenshin goes from train to taxi, and finds himself standing outside of the Ministry of Justice.  He asks directions at the desk to his appointment as he goes in, and soon is directed to an office near the back where he sits across from a middle aged man with a very narrow face. “How can I help you?” the man asks.  The nameplate on his desk identifies him as “Mr. Nakamura”.  

 

Kenshin, surprisingly nervous, still flashes him a smile, “I am trying to re-establish my identity.  I left the country for a time, and I am trying to prove that I am who I am.

 

So that I can find work.

 

Now that I have returned.”

 

The man frowns subtly, “Do you have any identifying papers?  Family who can vouch for you? Why did you leave the country?”

 

Kenshin and Kimiko had come up with a plan during his last visit.  She seemed to think it would probably go over better if he started from the beginning and worked his way to the present day.  If he started with present day they would probably just throw him out.

 

He tips over the suitcase, and opening it begins to pull out his papers. Kimiko had even allowed him to borrow the photograph of himself and friends at the old dojo. “Here are the items I have to prove I am myself.”

 

He sets the framed photograph on the desk, as well as the carefully preserved papers including those that gave him permission to carry his sword from the Meiji government. Haltingly, he begins his story.  

 

Kenshin can see the incredulity grow on the mans’ face as he continues, then as he pulls out more, and more, and more, it slowly morphs into hesitancy, and then curiosity. 

 

Finally, Kenshin pulls the sword from his back, causing the man to scramble back for a moment. 

 

“I will not hurt you.” Kenshin smiles disarmingly, and slowly begins taking off the wrappings.  Once out of the cover and sheath, he lays it on top of the now almost buried desk. As he removes his hands from the blade, Mr. Nakamura hesitantly scoots back over to look at it more closely.

 

“I also have this.  My sword from my wanderings.  You should be able to match the registered markings from it’s forging to verify its authenticity.” Kenshin flashes a grin, his violet eyes lighting up briefly, “I promise I am who and what I say.  I know it sounds crazy.”

 

An idea pops suddenly into Kenshin's head, and finally he pulls out his current passport and visa. “If you will not believe me, perhaps you will believe another government?  I have been living in England for some time, so they can verify where and when I was there.”

 

The man stares at him in stunned silence, opening and closing his mouth a few times, like a fish on dry land.

 

“Are you well?  Do you need assistance?”  Kenshin asks him in concern.

 

His words seem to bring Mr. Nakamura back to his senses, “Ah...You are, Himura Kenshin.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The Himura Kenshin, Battosai.”

 

Kenshin flinches subtly, “Yes.”

 

The man clicks his tongue, “Tch”, still somewhat incredulous.  

 

Eyeing his now overflowing desk with trepidation, and glancing finally between the sword and Kenshin, his eyes linger on Kenshin’s scarred cheek. “I will...need to call someone to verify your claim.  Please wait here.” He then quickly gets up and scrambles out of his office, closing the door firmly behind him with Kenshin still inside.

 

Kenshin waits, unsure what else he can do.  

 

And waits. 

 

Eventually he can hear people arguing from the other side of the door, and then finally, the door opens again.  Mr. Nakamura comes back in, but doesn’t sit down. Kenshin sighs to himself and tenses subtly as a police detective enters. ‘ _ Oro! Am I to be arrested?  This will make it very hard to get a job.’ _

 

However, the man just smiles at him as he takes Mr. Nakamura’s seat, briefly glancing over the paperwork in front of him and the sword, before lifting his eyes to Kenshin again. “I am Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi.  I was called to verify your words, as my quirk allows me to tell if people are telling the truth.”

 

Tsukauchi can’t help but notice as the man in front of him shifts into a more relaxed state. ‘ _ He was worried he won’t be believed, but the truth is a relief?’ _

 

“I am Himura Kenshin. I do know that it sounds like it could not be true. But it is.” 

 

_ Truth  _ His quirk confirms. ' _ Indeed _ ,' Tsukauchi thinks to himself.  _  'It does sound implausible.'   _ “Perhaps you can tell me your story again?  I know you just went over all of this, so just the short version?”

 

Kenshin can’t help but snort at that, but quickly begins, “Well, I was born in Japan, before the Meiji revolution.”  Tsukauchi interrupts, “Sorry, when  _ exactly _ were you born?”

 

Taking a deep and resigned breath, Kenshin begins counting silently on his fingers.

 

Tsukauchi and Nakamura exchange a glance, and then Tsukauchi speaks again, “What are you doing?”

 

“Sorry, I have to count.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, we didn’t exactly keep birth records, so I am trying to figure it out based on what I was told my age was, and various other things that were happening at the time.  My parents for instance, died when I was about 4 - cholera. I was trained to fight very young, as an assassin, I think I was around...13? I fought during the revolution as the Battosai…”  He pauses to gather his thoughts, a number of emotions flickering over his face in quick succession. I married briefly, but she… died.” 

 

_ Truth and...something mostly truth?  _ Tsukauchi continues to listen.

 

“I began to wander, to try to find myself in the new world I found had changed around me. I stayed in Musutafu for a short while at a dojo, and a shrine after that, and I began teaching Japanese about that time.  I eventually went to Europe around World War II, and then after that war, I stayed in England until just a few weeks ago.”

 

Tsukauchi’s quirk continues to confirm that at least Kenshin believes himself.  It seems to be the truth.

 

“I visited France, and after a week I traveled to the US.  I was only in the United States for a short time, before I finally returned home.  Here to Japan.”

 

_ Truth. _

 

“I am told I must prove I am myself, and register my quirk in order to find work.”  Kenshin smiles as he concludes the very abridged version of his life so far. 

 

“Why did you stay in England?  What kept you from returning to Japan?”

 

“I eventually had family there. Friends.  I didn’t want to leave them.”

 

“How is it possible you have lived so long?”

 

Kenshin actually shifts in his seat at this question.  _ The damn yellow pouch!   _

 

That however, is not the answer he decides to go with. “I am not entirely sure.” he hesitantly answers out loud, “It seems that I just heal very quickly.”  He frowns somewhat, “I seem to get younger if I get injured.” He can’t help but think of the many times he has been stabbed, or of being hit by a car. “It could be a quirk.  But it could be something else.”

 

Or the times he was shot. 

 

Or pushed off of buildings.

 

“Tsukauchi nods in confirmation to Mr. Nakamura, and then stands, allowing the man to reclaim his seat while he continues speaking to Kenshin, “I can tell you believe you are telling the truth, but I recommend that we verify the authenticity of your papers as well as the sword.“

 

He continues, “In order to register your quirk, if that is what it is, we will need you to visit a specialist, who can hopefully confirm its properties.” He smiles briefly at Kenshin, somewhat relieved he was called over for something so interesting.  “I do know a doctor I can recommend, who will be discreet. I assume you plan on keeping your return to yourself?”

 

Kenshin nods.

 

* * *

**Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan, July 8th, 2286**

**9:18am (0918)**

 

A few days later, and he finds himself in the waiting room of a quirk specialist, who also (he is told) frequently assists with specialized cases for those recovering from quirk injuries, and police or hero related incidents.

 

After notifying the receptionist that he has arrived, he sits in one of the brown chairs in the waiting area with a couple other people, and well, waits. He flips through a magazine on local heros, and notices advertisements for hero schools in the back.  He doesn’t realize he has spoken out loud his question of ‘Hero Schools?’ until the gaunt man sitting across from him in a yellow suit answers.

 

“Ah yes, there are a few.  UA is perhaps the best, although Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu have their own draw.  Oh, and Saiai Academy, as well as a few prominent schools overseas.” the man smiles which frankly is a little disturbing, with his lanky blond hair framing his thin face.  He would probably be quite tall if he stood up, and his suit seems a bit too big. “Not the only way to become a hero though. If you’re interested in that sort of thing.”

 

Kenshin blinks a few times, and then settles on a smile, “I was simply curious.  I am a teacher, after all. It is interesting that becoming a hero is so institutionalized here.” His eyes return to the full page add for the UA Sports Festival, “I have a friend who is interested in hero work.”

 

The man perks up slightly, “Oh?  Well, There is plenty to learn. Not everything about being a hero can be taught in schools.  The number One and number Two and many others went to formal Hero schools though. How long have you been teaching?”

 

Kenshin flashes a grin, “Oh, a very long time.  Most of my life it seems.” Kenshin can’t help but notice the man’s unusual eyes. Bright, almost glowing blue irises, but his eyes were so shadowed not a bit of the whites could be seen. How unusual.

 

The yellow suited man nods slowly, “Hmm, I have been asked to teach, and I am considering it.  I have not been sure I would be a good fit to such a life. I think I may do better with one student than many.”

 

“It really isn’t that different.  With one, you can give them more individualized attention, but often many can be rewarding in other ways.  It is an opportunity to show them how to be their best in whatever subject you teach.”

 

The man pauses suddenly.  “Oh, my apologies. I have interjected myself on your reading!  I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaunt cheeks flush awkwardly for a moment. “I don’t think I introduced myself either.”

 

Kenshin grins at him again, “I am always happy to learn new things, and to help others learn them.  I am Himura Kenshin,” he says with a half bow from his seat, “And you are?”

 

“Yagi Toshinori.  Pleased to meet you!”  He extends his hand in very American fashion.

 

Kenshin shakes his hand, wryly amused to randomly run into what seems to be the only American around. “And you.”

 

“Yagi-san?”  A voice calls from across the room, and both Kenshin and Toshinori look up at the nurse standing in the doorway.  

 

Toshinori stands up, ( _ and he is VERY tall! _ ) but turns to Kenshin with a smile before heading into the back, “I would love to ask you more about your teaching experiences, if you have time later?”  he flushes again, “I know it is a bit unusual, since we just met, but perhaps we could have tea this afternoon?”

 

Kenshin almost laughs, but settles on flashing another grin “Ah, of course!  I would be happy to answer whatever questions you have. But I have to admit I am still looking for work locally.  Most of my teaching has been overseas.”

 

Toshinori pulls out a business card, and after checking it ( _ to make sure it was him? _ ) hands it over “Please send me a text when you have time.” He smiles and nods, and exits with the nurse.

 

_ ‘Tea hmm?  Perhaps he’s not American after all.’ _

 

It is only a few minutes later when Kenshin is called back to his own appointment.

 

\---

 

Kenshin is first subjected to  _ blasted blood samples _ , which he  _ hates.  _ He seems to have inadvertently frightened the first nurse taking the samples with his unhappy glaring, because an older nurse comes in to finish the series of tests.  

 

He is then escorted into an exam room, and put through a series of other tests of strength, speed, stamina, x-rays, and various things which he doesn’t think are really related at all.  Finally, he is escorted into a smaller office, where a man is waiting to discuss with him the aspects of his “quirk”.  

 

“Mr. Himura” greets the Doctor, who just continues into the conversation without pausing, “I am Doctor Hikimoto, and I work for the Hero Commission as a quirk specialist.  I was asked as a favor to analyze your quirk, and really, you are most interesting! From your genetic testing, we can determine you were indeed born in Japan, and probably ate very pure foods at a young age - rather than processed foods. Your more recent diet has probably not been as healthy, but your body is really in remarkable shape!” He taps the paper in emphasis.  “When we subjected some of your blood and tissue samples to various items - acid, fire, ice, you know the usual - the smaller the exposure, the slower the response, but your healing factor is incredible! When almost completely exposed, the samples very quickly fought against the destruction of the cells, and in some cases seemed to have completely regenerated!! Oddly, the more tests done on a single sample, the quicker it seemed to respond and the more it healed. It really is amazing.”

 

Kenshin is surprised the man is still standing, since it doesn’t seem he has taken a breath. He shifts uncomfortably at having something he’s spent so long keeping to himself exposed so completely.

 

“Have you ever given blood? I mean, as a donation.”

 

Blinking, Kenshin briefly remembers the War, “Ah, I think a time or two?  It has been a long while.”

 

“You may want to consider it.  I would think - and granted, this is a theory - that your blood when donated would still retain the properties of your quirk, at least for a short while. You could really help those who have your blood type!”

 

Kenshin hears those words with some pain - perhaps he could have helped Henry avoid limping for years if he had known back then what he knows now.

 

“Of course,” the man continues, “It potentially could make you a target to those who are interested in marketing your ability or using it for nafareous purposes.  Do you get sick very often?”

 

Blinking, Kenshin tries to adjust to the quick change in topic, “Oro..no?” he can’t help but feel a bit of topic whiplash.

 

“You may be mostly immune to many diseases but I do not think it would be easy to test.”

 

“Ah, Perhaps another time.” Kenshin shifts uneasily.

 

“Oh!  Of course!  In any case, we can verify your quirk for the commission and the registration office.”  the man pulls some papers off of his clipboard, and after signing them, hands them to Kenshin. “Here you are.  Please - if you would like to know more about your quirk, I would be happy to assist you at any time.”

 

“Thank you.”  Kenshin stands and bows, and the Doctor also bows as Kenshin retreats to the nurses desk to check out. He is surprised to see Yagi also waiting to leave.

 

Yagi seems a bit more haggard and drained then when they had met in the waiting area, but he still smiles. “Ah, Mr. Himura.  I know I had invited you for tea this afternoon, but I feel quite tired after my appointment. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow instead?”

 

Kenshin nods, “Of course.  I will still be in the area.  I am staying over at a hotel in Musutafu.” 

 

Yagi perks up again, “That is not far from the place I had in mind.  Have you heard of the Sea Glass Cafe? It sells excellent loose teas, and you can get coffee as well, if that is what you prefer.” He pauses just a moment, “I might actually know someone who could help you with your search for work, if you are interested.  He is a Principle at a local school - he also liked the tea at the Sea Glass.”

 

“That would be kind of you, Yagi-sama.” Kenshin replies.

 

Toshinori flushes briefly again, and coughs, shuddering slightly, and covering his mouth with a handkerchief. “Yes.  Ah, tomorrow then? around 1 in the afternoon?” he adds, a bit muffled from behind the cloth.

 

Kenshin tears the corner off of one of his papers, and writes down his current number, handing it to Toshi “In case you need to reschedule.  Please take care of yourself, Yagi-sama. It was good to meet you.”

 

* * *

**Ministry of Justice, Quirk Registration Office, Tokyo, Japan, July 9th, 2286**

**8am (0800)**

 

The next morning finds Kenshin back at the Ministry of Justice, waiting in an almost identical office to the one he had sat in the week before. It isn’t until Mr. Nakamura comes in that he thinks perhaps it really is an identical office, but he is soon followed by a woman he doesn’t recognize who steps to the front.  

 

“Good Morning, Mr. Himura.”  She smiles smoothly, “It really is a pleasure to meet you.  I am Ms. Suzuki, and I work with the Hero Commission, as well as some of the other offices within the government.”  

 

Kenshin begins to suspect he has found another “agent”.  “Is it typical to register a quirk, that it is so difficult?”

 

Mr. Nakamura looks vaguely embarrassed, but remains silent.  Ms. Suzuki quirks her lips in a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes, “It is when the man registering the quirk could potentially be a danger to the country.”

 

He feels the surprise flash over his face, “Oro, a danger?”

 

“Hmm, at least according to our sources with European Intelligence.  The UK had good things to say about you however,” she tilted her head slightly to one side, and he couldn’t help but feel judged and measured like an object as she regarded him. “Many good things.”

 

After a lengthy pause, she speaks up again, “Congratulations, Mr. Himura.  And welcome back to Japan. If you have need, please keep in mind the Ministry and the Hero Commission are here to reach out to.  We will be watching your progress.” She gives him a half bow. Sets a passport and ID on the desk beside where Mr. Nakamura is still uncomfortably standing, and leaves the room.

 

“..Thank you?”  For some reason, Kenshin feels an uncanny dislike for that woman.

 

Mr. Nakamura closes the door behind her, and lets out a breath he was holding.  He flashes Kenshin an apologetic glance, and returns to his desk. He lifts Kenshin’s suitcase back up on top of the desk and smiles at him, “Here are your records, and here is your sword.  Please look over them and make sure nothing is out of place. Thank you for allowing us to take pictures for prosperity. He then collects the passport and ID card that the woman had left, as well as a signature stamp, reaching out to offer Kenshin his identity back. “We received the electronic files for your quirk registration.  Did you have anything specific you wanted to register it as? I mean, you have had years to think about it…” he pauses, and mumbles a little to himself, “Hmm, technically you had the first registered quirk, even if it wasn’t registered first….” he trails off, coming back to himself as Kenshin reaches out and accepts the ID.

 

“Ah - what did the doctor suggest?” 

 

“Well, it is a transformation quirk as he classified it. He suggested: Fountain of Youth.”

 

Kenshin flushes, “Ah, but I’m just Asian?”

 

Nakamura just laughs, a bit of the earlier tension draining from his shoulders, “Well, I hope I look as good as you at over 400.”

 

* * *

**Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, July 12th, 2286**

**12:57pm (1257)**

 

Kenshin checks the sign twice before going in the door, setting a small bell to jingling behind him as he enters. The rush of cool air as he steps into the room is pleasant, and the smell of coffee and tea permeates the area.  A few small and worn wooden tables are placed against the walls, some of which are occupied, and the far wall is taken up almost entirely by a large bar with various professional coffee machines and a cash register. Behind the bar, there are shelves and shelves of glass jars, neatly labeled with white script identifying the type of tea leaves or coffee available for purchase.  A door behind the bar seems to exit into what is probably a kitchen area or storage room. A tired looking green haired woman is taking orders at one of the tables, and briefly smiles at him as he enters. 

 

Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lower level of light in the cafe, Kenshin still tries to spot which table Yagi is occupying.  He spots the back of the man’s very noticeable blond locks, and heads in that direction.  

 

“Yagi-sama?” Kenshin speaks up before he makes it all the way over to the table.  Yagi partially turns, giving Kenshin a full view of the table and its other occupant. “Himura-san!  You made it!” Yagi’s bright smile greets Kenshin as he walks the rest of the way over to the table, but he barely notices since he’s too busy taking in the white... _ Rat...Dog...Bear Person? _ ? who is occupying the bench against the wall.  

 

“I...hope I am not too tardy?” His voice comes across a bit more uneven than usual as he tries to contain his excitement. ‘ _ Kenshin Himura you must not pet.  It is not polite to pet people. _   _Another animal person! Quirks are amazing!'_

 

The spindly man gestures to his odd companion, still smiling, “Not at all, not at all!.  Please join us - this is Principle Nezu. I thought he might be able to help with your search.”

 

Nezu, who is already standing on the bench to reach the table, bows politely and  _ appraises _ him with black intelligent eyes. “Greetings Himura-sensei.  I have heard much about you. I hope you do not mind, when my Yagi mentioned he had met someone looking for a teaching position, I took the liberty of contacting the Hero Commission to check on who you were.  Very interesting history!”

 

Kenshin quirks an eyebrow as he regards them both and listens to this narrative from Nezu, unsure if he should feel fascinated or alarmed at the scrutiny of this Mouse-bear.  He straightens his jacket, having reverted to his now familiar western suit coat and semi-casual slacks for today. “I am very pleased to meet you - and please, I prefer to keep my past to myself for now.  Which school are you the Principle of, if I may ask, Nezu-sama?” he asks with a return bow before he sits.

 

“Yagi did not tell you??  Why I am the Principle of the premiere Hero Academy of Japan!  U.A.!”, He answers, brandishing his teacup and standing in a “hero” pose.  “I have been trying to convince Yagi-san here to join our staff.”

 

“Are you a retired hero?” Kenshin asks, unaware of the pot he is stirring.

 

Yagi suddenly coughs, spewing blood onto the floor beside the table, causing Kenshin to jump up in alarm.

 

“Ah, this is normal, please do not mind me!” he tries to get his coughing under control.

 

Kenshin does mind. 

 

Quite a bit. 

 

He is really very concerned.  

 

“Yagi-sama, should I call a doctor?  Can I help?” He hovers helplessly, finally handing him some napkins and running over to collect a mop from the barista, who is making coffee behind the counter.  

 

Behind him Nezu is laughing.

 

He peeks at her nametag before addressing her, “Please, excuse my interruption Midoriya-sama, do you have a mop?  I need to clean a mess we made near our table.”

 

He spots one behind her as he finishes asking, and she steps aside “You can use this one?” She smiles, returning her attention to the espresso machine.

 

The mess is quickly cleaned up while Yagi catches his breath, and Nezu continues to laugh.

 

Eventually they settle back down.  Nezu’s favorite tea blend is out, and Kenshin suggests some of his own favorite blends to try. Thankfully the slightly manic tone to the Mouse-bear’s voice fades as he relaxes with his tea, and they get back to the topic of teaching.

 

“Yes, I have taught middle school and University, as well as private students.” Kenshin smiles at them both, “I am hoping to teach at the middle or high school level here.” He glances over at Nezu, “I just finished re-establishing my identity this morning, actually.”

 

The beady eyes of the rat-bear flicker with amusement, as his ( _ lips? muzzle? _ ) quirks into a smile, “So I had heard.”

 

_ ‘So quickly?’  _ Kenshin thinks with amazement.

 

Nezu continues, “I think I have a few contacts that would be interested in your skills,” he pauses, almost imperceptibly, “as a teacher.”

 

Yagi speaks up, obliviously, “That would be wonderful!  If you find something locally, we can continue to meet for tea, and you can give me tips on teaching.”

 

Soon the conversation morphs into discussions of past students, and Yagi listens with interest as Nezu and Kenshin compare student and quirk stories.  Nezu even laughs when Kenshin mentions having been accidentally poisoned by a student once. Although Yagi looks rather concerned. “Are you alright?”  

 

“Yes yes, I heal very quickly.  Evidently that’s my quirk.”

 

“Hmm,” Yagi replies, one hand holding his side, “I wish I could say the same.”

 

The conversation comes to a somewhat abrupt end when the barista comes up to the table, “I apologize, but I need to close up and get home.  It is already an hour past our usual closing time. Could you perhaps come back another day?”

 

Kenshin quickly stands and helps clear the table, while Nezu and Yagi bid him good evening and head out.  Following fairly soon after them, Kenshin decides with a glance at the sky that he may as well walk back to the hotel.  The air has cooled down a bit, and the evening is pleasant. He is feeling rather pleased with himself.  

 

Step 1: complete.  Identify restored. 

Step 2: in progress, find a job. 

Step 3: Apartment, Step 4...well, he’ll get to that once he gets that far. 

The street lights, which are rather few and far between, flicker on in the gathering night.

 

His inner musings are interrupted when he hears a shriek behind him, which cuts off alarmingly.  He quickly turns around and jogs back the way he came, skidding to a halt and turning back when he notices some movement in an ally he just passed.

 

“Please!  I have a son at home.  Leave me alone!” Cries the woman tearily, who has fallen back against one of the walls, small bits of litter and trash flinging themselves at the man trying to pull her purse away from her. 

 

Kenshin recognizes that voice.

 

WIthout hesitation, he springs forward, closing the distance between his fist and the man’s face in record time. The impact causes the mugger to stagger back, but he growls and jumps at Kenshin in return.  Kenshin blocks, and the barista from the cafe begins to scoot herself back out of the way, having pulled her purse free.

 

“Are you alright?”  he calls to her as the Mugger and him regard each other in a brief standoff.  The man claps his hands in front of him and a cloud of smoke suddenly springs up, blocking clear view.     
  


“Please be careful!” Is the teary response he gets from her.  He can hear her push the buttons on her phone, and her panicked request for the police.

 

Kenshin listens for movement, but doesn’t quite react fast enough when the man springs at him from the side, brandishing a knife.  He hisses in delayed pain when he is struck across the ribs, but quickly grapples the man’s wrist, twisting his arm up and over and throwing him to the ground with a loud grunt. Following through, he pulls the muggers arm up into a locked position, and knocks the blade from his hand. He then places his foot against the back of the man’s head, effectively bracing him in place.  

 

The sounds of sirens soon approach from the distance, and he can hear other people entering the alleyway as the smoke begins to dissipate. The man struggles a bit, but stops with a hiss when Kenshin tightens his hold on his arm, pulling slightly.  

 

“You are all under arrest!” yells a policeman when he spots the three as the air clears.  

 

“Oro!” Kenshin objects, “He was the one that attacked her! I was just trying to make sure she was safe!”

 

“Quirk use without a hero license is prohibited!  You should all know that!”

 

Midoriya bursts into tears again, “I can’t protect myself??”

 

“Please, Midoriya-san, it will be ok!  The police will see that you are not at fault.” Kenshin tries to comfort her when they are all bundled into a police car. Protests and explanations have been ignored, and she breaks into a fresh fountain of tears.

 

* * *

**4th Region Police Station, Musutafu, Japan, July 12th, 2286**

**9:19pm (2119)**

 

Soon, they find themselves at the local police station, Kenshin and the thief have been taken to individual interview rooms, being questioned. As the discovered “victim” of the crime, she is being questioned by a young policeman who is just trying to help calm her down.

 

Inko is still crying.  But she is also mad. They wont let her call her son to let him know she will be late - they won’t even  _ listen _ to her when she insists the nice friend of Yagi-san was just helping her get away from the thief!  She isn’t sure if she is going to scream or cry at the injustice of the day-  _ She is just so tired! _ \- tears of frustration run down her face.  She is obliviously flustering the rookie policeman who really isn’t sure how to handle the weeping woman.

 

Naomasa Tsukauchi is on his way out after dropping off some files when he notices the situation and lost police child.  The poor policeman’s hand is hovering over the woman’s back, as if he isn’t sure if patting her would help comfort or make things worse.  Tsukauchi catches his pleading “save me!” look, and with a nod allows the young recruit to retreat.

 

“Oba-san, are you alright?  Can you tell me why you are so upset?” he sits down beside Inko and hands her a tissue, which she takes appreciatively and sniffles, dabbing her eyes and gathering herself, “Oh, it was horrible!  I was attacked on my way home from my second job, and Yagi-san’s kind friend ran in to help me, but then the police took all of us here and now he’s in trouble and they said he was acting as a vigilante…” She tears up again, taking a breath, “He was just trying to help me!  He got me away from him and restrained the thief, and we waited for the police! What else should we have done??”

 

Naomasa sighs, “It sounds like you have had a very trying day.  May I ask - who is Yagi-san, his friend, and what is your name?”

 

Midoriya wipes her eyes, “Yagi-san, Yagi Toshinori,  is a regular at the cafe - The Sea Glass Cafe, where I work sometimes.  His friends came in to join him for tea today, and they all stayed past closing to help me clean up! She sniffles again, “

 

The Detective sighed to himself.  Yagi Toshinori - who really seemed to be a magnet for trouble.  It is hardly a wonder that his friends are just as bad at keeping themselves from stepping in when someone is in need of help.  “And what was your name, Oba-san?” he asks gently.

 

“Sorry!  I am Midoriya Inko.” 

 

“Midoriya-san - Please let me get you a drink, and then if you would please write down what you have told me - you don’t need to add in names - but please write down all the events as clearly as possible.”  He reaches over and grabs a box of tissues, which he hands to her, “Here you are - and we will get this all straightened out. Alright?”

 

She nods and gives him a half bow, “Thank you! I will do as you ask!”

  
\----

Kenshin’s side throbs.

 

A different officer has been taking his statement, and is looking at Kenshin with some skepticism. “So you just ran in to help, without calling for the police or a local hero?”

 

“She could have been hurt!  He was obviously trying to steal her purse, and she was crying!” He is beginning to feel attacked. ‘ _ I did nothing wrong!’ _

 

“You do know it is illegal to use your quirk in these circumstances without a hero license.”  The officer states, frowning slightly as he glances down at Kenshin’s side.

 

“I didn’t use my quirk.  I just got him away from her, and then restrained him until she could call the police.”  It has been a while since he has been this close to losing his temper.  He is however  _ this close _ to losing his temper.

 

“We saw all of the smoke! That wasn’t natural.”

 

Kenshin just stares at him, incredulous, “That is not my quirk.  That was the thief! I just heal quickly. I have no powers over smoke.”

 

The policeman frowns and writes something down on his notes, then glances again at Kenshin’s side. “Were you injured?”  He actually sounds somewhat concerned.

 

Lifting a hand to his side again, Kenshin tries to take a deep breath, assessing, “Well, it hurts less than it did.  Probably almost healed now.” Shrugging out of his damaged suit jacket, the policeman takes in a breath at the slashed open and bloody shirt, standing half out of his chair. 

“Please!  It’s ok! Kenshin tries to reassure him with a smile, and pulls up his destroyed shirt to show what is now only mildly irritated skin, and a fresh scar.  

 

Of course, the inside still aches, but he doesn’t need to let the nice policeman know about that. “I only got a little stabbed this time.”

 

The policeman blinks,  _ “This time,” _ He repeats, tone a bit strangled.

 

Kenshin realizes he has said too much at exactly the same time that the door opens, Detective Tsukauchi steps inside, walking over to stand behind the officer’s chair, “Thank you, Oyagi.  I will take it from here.” 

 

Oyagi stands, picking up his notes, but Tsukauchi plucks them out of his hands before directing him with his other hand toward the door.  Oyagi clenches his jaw briefly but quietly leaves, the door closing behind him.

 

Tsukauchi sighs, and sits in the now vacated chair.  “Mr. Himura.”

 

“Detective Tsukauchi.”

 

“I should have guessed that Yagi-san’s friend would be you.”  He tilts his head watching Kenshin with a bit of resignation. “You really are quite lucky I was here today.  If not, you would likely be arrested and charged with vigilantism.” He regards Kenshin evenly, “As it is, I happened to walk by as Midoriya-san was vouching for ‘Yagi-san’s kind friend who saved her from the awful murdering thief.’ her words.”  

 

“Oro!  I was just helping because she needed help.”

 

Naomasa nods, “True, but you cannot help or use your quirk in such situations without a hero license.”

 

Kenshin just blinks, ‘ _ You really do need a license for everything!?’ _ before his eyes narrow subtly, his annoyance at repeating himself and his long night coming out in his voice, “I could not just leave her to be stabbed and mugged, and I did not use my quirk!”

 

_ Truth.  _ Naomasa’s quirk adds unbidden.

 

The detective hums. Noting the tension in Kenshin’s shoulders and jaw, he considers what he now knows of the man’s past before speaking. “I believe you.” he decides to start with, and watches Kenshin relax slightly, “If you think you might find yourself in these situations often, I would recommend looking into getting a hero license.  I can get you some information on that if you wish.”

 

Kenshin stills, and after a brief pause, lifts his violet eyes to meet the gaze of Naomasa, “I think that would be best.”

 


	14. I Know I Always Come and Go (Go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Nedzu's meddling becomes more apparent to everyone except Kenshin. In other news; Kenshin can cook he swears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello most wonderful readers! I am super excited about this chapter, and I hope that you enjoy!! We are blown away constantly by your fantastic comments and we are very happy you are enjoying the story so far. Hopefully you don't hate us too much after the next few chapters, lol.
> 
> Please comment and let us know what you think! Comments of all kinds are appreciated <3

  


**CHAPTER 14 - I Know I Always Come and Go (Go)**

  


**Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. July 14th, 2286**

**7:11pm (1911)**

  


“Really!!?  That is fantastic!”  Amiko practically jumped from her seat at the news, and Kenshin and Kimiko exchanged an amused glance.  Kenshin had discussed it with Kimiko over the phone the day before, and invited him to dinner to break the news himself.

  


“It will only be on weekends for now, or when we both have free time.  I have outlined a plan to follow otherwise on how to get into shape for the exam and what to eat, but I doubt it will be too much different from what your mother already had you doing.  Do you think you can be disciplined enough to follow that on your own during the week?”

  


“I will!  I promise!”  She actually jumped over and hugged Kenshin, who startled, just held his arms up for a moment and then patted her on the back with one hand. When she released him she eagerly took the notebook he offered her.

  


Kenshin chuckled a little at her enthusiasm, and then continued. “I will be studying to take the exam for a license myself.  It seems that just stepping in to stop something wrong is an act of vigilantism here.” He looks up at Kimiko, who nods. 

  


Standing, Kimiko begins to gather up the dishes to wash, and Amiko quickly made herself scarce with her new precious notebook.

  


“Her father would be proud of her.”  Kimiko offered quietly from the sink while adding dish soap.

  


Looking up, Kenshin noticed the mood had changed and remained silent.  He walked over and started some tea, since he knew Kimiko would get upset with him if he tried to help with dishes.

  


Eventually, Kimiko continued, “He was a fantastic martial artist, he used to help train some of the pros.” she rinsed a bowl and put it to the side. “He was downtown when there was a big fight a few years ago between Endeavour and the Villain Toxic Chainsaw.  The Villain got away. I was told later he was captured by All Might and ended up in Tartarus.” She put the last dish on the rack and turned around to face Kenshin.

  


“There was already a lot of damage to the area that day though- my husband did not make it.”

  


He offered her a cup of the now finished tea, which she took with a half smile. “Thank you.”

  


“Thank you for telling me.  Is that why she wants to be a hero so much?” Kenshin asked quietly.

  


They both walked back over to sit at the table, “I think it is.  She seems determined that there’s enough Heroes around to save those that need to be saved.  She feels like her quirk would be good for rescue, and I agree.” She pressed her lips subtly, “I don’t want to lose her as well, but..” She smiled wanly at Kenshin and took a sip of her tea.

  


“I can understand her desire to help others.  I will do my best to help her get into a good hero school, although I am not sure what I can help with that you could not do just as well.”

  


Kimiko laughed, “Ah, but I’m just her Mother, you’re a legend!”

  


Kenshin flushes and shakes his head, “I am just a man. I will not teach her what she probably most wants to know,” he looks up at her “Some things are used only to kill, not to save.”

  


“Still, thank you for helping her.” Kimiko smiles, “I’m glad you found our Dojo.  I think Yahiko would have been happy too.”

  


Kenshin stands, flashing a grin, “This one thanks you.  I must get back to the hotel however - I have an interview tomorrow!”

  


Kimiko smiles and stands as well, giving Kenshin a bow, “I wish you luck!”

  


* * *

  


**Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, July 17th, 2286**

**1:17pm (1317)**

  


There was a different barista on duty today, but Kenshin still sat at the table they had been meeting at regularly and waited for Yagi and Nezu to arrive.  Instead of having brought a new blend for them all to try, Kenshin had just bought Nezu’s favorite, which was back in stock. His friends were a bit later than he had expected, usually they were very prompt.  He was startled suddenly by a “That is my usual seat you know!” and his eyes flashed briefly to amber as he tried to calm the adrenaline that flooded his system.  It wasn't often he was snuck up upon. Nezu now was standing on the bench right beside him. 

  


“Oro!!  A Nezu. You startled me!” Kenshin had without thinking shifted halfway into a ready stance, but slowly relaxed back into the bench.

  


“I can tell.” The Mouse-man replies, amusement in his voice.  “I am afraid Yagi-san will not make it today. ”

  


Kenshin shifts into one of the other chairs at the table, and pours some tea for Nezu, “Ah, well - I suppose I will speak with him again soon regardless.  I hope he is well?”

  


“He had another obligation suddenly come up.” Nezu replies vaguely.  “How did your interview go?”

  


Kenshin blinks, “You knew about the interview?” then sighs, “Of course you knew about the interview.” He smiles at Nezu, amused, “You know everything after all.  Do I even need to tell you how it went, or do you already know?” Kenshin grins impishly.

  


“Well, it’s only polite to ask.” Answers Nezu primly, taking a sip of his tea and distinctly not answering the question.

  


“It went well.  I will be taking over for one of their instructors who is moving unexpectedly.”

  


Kenshin doesn’t notice Nezu’s eyes twinkle.

  


“I’ll be teaching English for Musutafu Prep School. I start in three weeks, so I need to find somewhere more permanent to live than a hotel pretty soon.”  He took a sip of his tea, lingering over the crisp citrus flavor and taking a moment to just enjoy his surroundings.

  


Nezu watched him, his expression not really revealing anything, but Kenshin really never seemed to mind Nezu’s little idiosyncrasies. “Perhaps I could help you find an apartment?  I  _ may _ know of a few open locations.” 

  


Kenshin pours himself some additional tea and smiles at Nezu, “I would appreciate it.  I have benefitted from your judgement so far.” 

  


And then the Bear-rat-man completely changes the subject, “What do you think of the System of Heroics in Japan? I am curious what it looks like to an outside perspective.” 

  


Kenshin swirled his cup absently, and took a few moments to think over his answer.  “I think like any system, it has its flaws.” he lifts his gaze to his companion, “Ranking is based mostly on popularity, but popularity does not always coincide with what is best in humanity.  As far as current heroes…” He takes a quiet sip, then continues, “I think some are admirable. But I do not know if it is sustainable over time. All we can really do is try to prepare future heroes for what they will face, and mitigate the problems that arise.”  Kenshin smiles subtly at Nezu, “Much like government.”

  


Nezu almost cackles, “Well, coming from you. I think I believe it. How many wars were you in?” 

  


Kenshin just smirks, “Too many.” The smile drops from his face too quickly however, and he doesn’t realize that his friend has noticed.

  


Showing a surprising amount of compassion, Nezu changes the subject back to something with less memories attached. “Well, I think I know of a couple of leads on apartments.  I will send you the details.” Nezu peeks into his empty cup.

  


Taking the hint, Kenshin reaches over to take the teapot and refills Nezu’s drink, “Thank you. I am hoping to find something close to the school or the train.” Kenshin pauses for a moment, then pulls his mind back from memory to the present moment, “So - your school, employs heroes and former heroes?”

  


Nezu nods. “Yes!  We try to hire the best, and our curriculum is designed to be the best for both the hero course as well as our other lines of education.” 

  


“Does that mean that you are also a Pro-Hero?”

  


“Of course!  I’m often involved in analytics and finding leads on cases where others are unable to figure out the problem.” The mouse-bear’s tea-cup, remarkably, avoids sloshing everywhere when he uses it to gesture.

  


Kenshin nods, and lifting his eyes from his tea to his friend, continues, “I have been...well, I have never been good at standing by if someone needed help, and I have already been warned that stepping in without a license is, ah, illegal.”

  


Nezu hides his smile with his teacup and just listens.

  


“So I am thinking I will study for the exam.  Probably a terrible idea, in some ways. But I’d rather be prepared and able to help than not.”

  


“An admirable sentiment.” he cackles internally, but remains calm on the surface, “Will you go public? Or will you stick to the underground?”

  


“I think I will stick to myself, and whenever or wherever I happen to be needed.”

  


Nezu hums, placing his teacup back on the table.  “I see.” He peeks at Kenshin with his black eyes twinkling, “I will send you some study materials.  Let me know when you think you are ready to take the exams.”

  


* * *

  


**The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. July 21st, 2286**

**11:05am (1105)**

  


Of the three apartments and condos that Nezu had sent him, this one was in the best location, and happened to be the most affordable.  That was also why Kenshin had saved it for last. He hated when things were too good to be true. Not that Kenshin really needs to worry about funds, a few lifetimes of working really helps as far as that goes. But if he keeps giving away money like he tends to do, then affordable couldn’t hurt.

  


Upon inspecting the condo, (under the gaze of the owner who eyes his hair and mutters something about foreigners)  It does seem that things are exactly as they were presented to be. The apartment has two bedrooms - much more space than he needs, frankly - but only one bathroom, and a smaller kitchen.  ' _ I can always use one of the bedrooms as an office, or guest room.' _ There is a small balcony however, which Kenshin rather decides he likes when he steps out and enjoys the breeze for a moment.  ' _ Must less stifling than ground level _ .'  

  


The balcony overlooks a narrow side street with very few windows.  This building is taller than its neighbor, so the view while obstructed, isn’t too bad. There is only one other balcony on this level, also over the alleyway, and it appears to be a full apartment or two down from the one he is considering.  The real estate agent kept up a steady stream of information in the background, “...and each individual condo is soundproofed, and the condo association covers additional damage insurance in the case of villain attack.”

  


“Does that sort of thing happen often?”  Kenshin asks absently. Looking up from the balcony, he can see a decorative ridge, which  _ might _ be possible to walk on, as well as an escape ladder to the roof.  ‘ _ Yes, this could do quite well.’   _

  


He tunes back in to the real estate agent belatedly, “...only in extreme circumstances.”  

  


Oh.  Maybe he should have been paying attention.  _ Can’t ask now though. _   He just nods slowly.

  


He had stopped by the neighborhood the night before, but all had seemed relatively quiet.  Even the corner store had less traffic than he might have expected from this close to the train station.  If he ever decides to get a car, the condo even has its own parking.

  


After getting the third degree from the owner, he is allowed to put in an application before he leaves, and hopes for the best.

  


* * *

  


**Myōjin residence at Myōjin Dojo, Musutafu, Japan. July 26th, 2286**

**9:11pm (2111)**

  


“...And that’s four.”   A breathless Amiko rests her hands on her knees, coming to a stop in front of Kenshin, and gasping for air.  

  


“The last one was twice as slow as the second time around.  You must go faster. Catch your breath, and then one more time around the block before we call it a night.”

  


_ “Annngh.”  _  Amiko whines, still breathing heavily.

  


“And you can race  _ me _ for complaining.  If I win, you must make me tea.” Kenshin smirks.

  


“That’s not fair! You always win!”

  


“Then you must go faster, so that I do not.”

  


Amiko just gives him a dirty look, but gives in, and continues to catch her breath.  Suddenly she takes off - heading to the corner of the block.

  


This startles a laugh from Kenshin, who runs after her, quickly overtaking the teenager.  “Good! Keep your opponents guessing! But also, run faster!”

  


She groans a bit and pushes herself as he runs past, and manages to mostly keep up with him (he does slow down a little) on the last lap around the block.  Keiko is waiting for them outside when they run back up - side by side.

  


Keiko smiled at her daughter, who collapsed for a moment on the sidewalk. “Humura-san, your phone was ringing.”  She said aside to Kenshin.

  


“Thank you!” he said, not even breathing hard yet, and walked on into the dojo where he had left his things.  He did have a missed call, and after listening to the message, he ran back outside.

  


“Good news!  I got the apartment!”

  


There is a half-hearted, breathless cheer from Amiko who is lying on the ground. Her mother laughs.

  


* * *

  


**The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. July 31st, 2286**

**8:45pm (2045)**

  


Kenshin stands and gazes up at his new apartment with some anticipation and happiness.  The sun is shining ( _ granted, it is far too hot _ ), but he has temperature control in his condo and his furniture was delivered yesterday ( _ Oh, he his glad to have that over with _ ). In other news, he just picked up his first groceries from the local store.  He heads inside, humming happily to himself, and puts on some music from London that he had been fond of before he left.  He puts the groceries away, the food for dinner in his tiny oven to cook, and then gets to work on a few more boxes.  

  


Unfortunately, between the loud music and unpacking, he doesn’t notice when the timer is up on his oven and it isn’t long before he realizes it’s getting rather smokey.  Right before the smoke alarm goes off, incidentally. Swearing, he pulls the offending meal from the oven, and rushes outside onto the balcony, leaving the door open for the smoke to clear.

  


He stands, not really sure what to do, holding his smoking food out at arms length over the alleyway.  A steady stream of swearing in English and every other language he knows coming from his mouth, the music and the smoke alarm continue blaring behind him.  Suddenly, he hears laughter, and looking over at the other balcony, realizes he is being observed.

  


There is a vaguely familiar man on the other balcony, laughing at him.  His hair is bright blonde and quite long, falling near his waist. He was wearing eye-catching pink sweatpants and a black tank top with ‘UA’ emblazoned on the chest.  He grasps breathlessly at the balcony railing to hold himself up, spilling a bit of his beer.

  


The smoke alarm behind him finally stops, drawing Kenshin’s attention back to the charred husk of a meal he is holding.

  


He sighs.

  


“Was that your dinner?”  the blond asks when his laughter has subsided, although there is still a broad smile across his face.

  


Kenshin looks back up at him.  “Yes.”

  


“Wait a sec,  _ listener _ .”  The last word is in English, said with the kind of flair you’d expect from a man in bright pink sweatpants. The man heads inside his own apartment.

  


Kenshin decides the food is unsalvageable, and tosses it into the dumpster across the way in the alleyway below.  Good thing it was open. He doesn’t want to stink up his new condo any more than he already has.  _ ‘Maybe I can order takeout?’ _

  


His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his front door.  He heads back inside, turning the music down a bit, and goes to see who it is.  He is greeted by the blond man, holding a pot of udon which is still steaming, and two bowls.  “Welcome to the building!” He grins, “You’re lucky I had udon cooking.”

  


Kenshin blinks for a second, but then steps aside, his years as an “Englishman” kicking in.  “Thank you. Let me...clear a space.” He quickly walks over and moves the boxes on his counter onto the floor, and pulls the barstools up to the counter. “Sorry I’m still...unpacking.”

  


“I’m Yamada Hizashi.” The man introduces himself as he puts the pot on the stove and dishes some noodles into one of the bowls.  He pauses for a moment, “Um, did you want your oven still on?”

  


“Oro!”  He rushes over, shutting the oven off. “Sorry..about the noise and smoke and - well, sorry.”  ' _ Of course the first neighbor I meet would think I am a complete idiot.'  _

  


Kenshin reaches out by habit to introduce himself with a handshake, pauses, and then bows, flushing again, “Ah, Pleased to meet you.  I am Himura Kenshin.”

  


“For sure, _ listener _ !” Yamada smiles at him, but tilts his head thoughtfully as he settles onto one of the unpacked stools at the kitchen island. “That name sounds familiar.  Are you a model or something, neighbor?”

  


Kenshin flushes again, “Ah, no.  I’m a teacher.” He picks up the empty bowl and dishes himself some Udon, then puts the food at the free spot at the bar.  He then goes over and pulls a couple of beers from his fridge, lifting one with an unspoken question and looking at his guest.  

  


The man nods, “Yes please.”  And Kenshin opens both beers and brings them back to the counter. 

  


“So - just, not used to cooking?”  The man asks, smiling amusedly before he takes a bite of noodles.

  


The embarrassment on Kenshin’s cheeks has not abated.  He eats some Udon before he answers, “I didn’t hear the timer over the music.”

  


“Well, it certainly brought some excitement to the building.”  He grins again, sipping his beer and leaning against the counter.  “Good taste in music though.”

  


Kenshin slurps a noodle and looks up with surprise, “You like English music?”

  


The man laughs incredulously, “Do I like...English music?!” his green eyes twinkle merrily. “You could say that.”

  


Kenshin isn’t sure why that’s so funny.  The food is good though. “Well, it is not all that common in Japan.  Or well, at least it was not when I left.”

  


Yamada seems to take that as a challenge, listing some of his favorite contemporary bands, and then going back to his favorite bands of all time.  He even sings a snippet of an old Radiohead song and then flashes Kenshin a grin. His voice is pretty good.

  


Kenshin remembers attending a few of their concerts before they got “big”, and, well, died.  

  


“Okay! I believe you; you like English music.”  Kenshin smiles, finishing off his bowl, “So do I.  I’ve actually been in London for the last few years, so I’ve grown rather fond of a lot of English things.” 

  


“Really!”  Yamada suddenly switches to English, “ _ I happen to think English is a fine language and has many excellent qualities. _ ”  His accent more American than British, but it still startles Kenshin into a wide grin.

  


It isn’t long until they have bonded over English and questionable song choices.  The beer no doubt helps. Soon they’re testing each other’s song knowledge, saying random lyrics and having the other guess the band and song. Hizashi is winning, much to Kenshin’s dismay. Eventually, the cheater reveals he’s a radio host and actually needs to know these things.

  


It is completely unfair and the thrown chopstick is completely justified. 

  


Yamada is the one that notices the stack of Hero Exam study materials shoved onto a corner of one of the sofa tables as he’s collecting the wayward chopstick. “Ah!  Are you studying? Or just curious?”

  


He glances over to see what Yamada is referring to, “Ah - I am - both?  I’m helping someone study, but also studying myself, among other things.”

  


Yamada smiles, his eyes twinkling, “Well, let me know if you ever want some tips.  I actually know quite a few Pros.”

  


“Really?  That would be most kind of you. I know one, but he seems very busy.”  Kenshin can’t quite suppress the yawn that squeezes its way out, and he blinks a few times.

  


Hizashi laughs, “I’ll let you get to sleep.  Not everyone is a night owl like me.” He starts gathering up his dishes and the remaining Udon.  

  


Kenshin smiles sheepishly and helps clean up, then holds the door for him when he’s ready to go, “Thank you again, Yamada-san.  I have had a much better evening than I would have on my own. I do not have many friends.” ' _ I really should invite Yagi over soon.  I can cook a proper meal when everything is unpacked.' _

  


Hizashi pauses suddenly, “Oh, hey…”  He juggles dishes and things, setting them down on the floor for a moment, and takes out his phone.  “What’s your number? Then I can coordinate things when everyone is available? Or we can just save you from your awful cooking at random times. You can meet Shouta!”

  


Hizashi’s question breaks through Kenshin’s thoughts, “Oro! Here.”  he takes the phone briefly, and enters in his information, handing it back when he is done.

  


“Speaking of which, you should come out tomorrow night!  A bunch of us are going to go do Karaoke.” 

  


Kenshin flushes, “I do not think you would like it if I sang.  Besides, I need to study and prepare lesson plans for next week.”

  


Yamada shoves it into his pocket, “Next time then?  You can’t hide in your apartment forever!” He grins and re-collects the dishes, “Good night, Himura-san!”

  


“Good night, Yamada-sama.  It was good to meet you!”

  


* * *

  


**Sea Glass Cafe, Musutafu, Japan, August 8th, 2286**

**2:17pm (1417)**

  


“Thank you, Midoriya-san”, Yagi smiles at the barista as she brings over their tea.  “It was very kind of you to keep my blend in stock. I am sorry I haven’t been in lately.”

  


The barista flushes visibly, “Ah, it is no problem, Yagi-san.  You are the only person who drinks that one!”

  


Kenshin laughs when Yagi’s cheeks glow as he is caught watching the barista walk back to the bar.  “You could just ask her out, you know.”

  


Yagi looks down at the table, lips cocked in a half-smile, “Ah, but it wouldn’t be fair to her.  I am damaged.”

  


Kenshin’s mind briefly flits to the conversation with the Quirk doctor, and wonders if he could have helped Henry when he had the chance.  His eyes rest on Yagi’s side consideringly, “Is it very bad?”

  


Yagi smiles at his friend, “Do not let it worry you, Dear Himura-san.”  

  


“You may call me Kenshin.”  Their eyes meet, Kenshin’s gaze earnest.

  


Yagi flushes again and shifts uneasily in his chair, “Ah, thank you..Kenshin. You can call me Toshinori.  If you want.” 

  


Sensing his friends desire to change the subject, Kenshin complies, “So, I have moved in to my new apartment!  It is quite nice, you should come see it sometime!”

  


Yagi pours his tea, and takes a sip before answering, “I would like that.  Where is it again? The ‘Austerium?’”

  


“Yes!  I can even make you some food and try to fatten you up.  You are very thin, Toshinori-san,” Kenshin laughed. Toshinori’s face burns brighter.

  


He spluttered from a moment.  “Oh, It is quite all right. I do not think I can get much more...fit.  My condition you see.” his voice lowers, making sure they are not overheard, “I, I can not really eat much.  I’ve had a number of surgeries. I’m very limited on what I can eat when I do, unfortunately.”

  


Kenshin hums, “Well, if you are comfortable sending me a list of what you can eat, I will try to make something you will like?”

  


Yagi seems surprised that his friend cares enough to try, but smiles warmly, “That would be kind of you.”

  


Kenshin sips his tea, his mind wandering again to what the Quirk doctor had said.  Perhaps he could contact him and see if there was any way he could help Toshinori.

  


* * *

  


**The Austerium, Musutafu, Japan. August 9th, 2286**

**01:05am (0105)**

  


It had been an odd phone conversation.  Kenshin had reminded Doctor Hikimoto’s staff who he was, and evidently the hero commission doctor remembered because he had come to the phone almost immediately.  He would be going in for some additional tests, and Doctor Hikimoto would be working with Yagi’s doctor to see if they could think of anything that might help. ' _ Maybe, just maybe, I could be of use to my friend.  _ _ It will be hard not to mention it - I do not want to get his hopes up though, if there ends up being nothing I can do.' _

  


He had come home and made himself a cup noodle, not really feeling up to cooking, but knowing he should eat.  It had not been very good. It was the kind of lonely night that he had often spent looking for things to do and people to help, but with the laws here - he did not think the police would be as kind a second time around. ' _ Maybe I should text Yamada and see what he is up to?'  _  After wallowing in his now clean apartment for a while, too restless to study but too wound up to sleep, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler and tried to numb things enough to relax.  After the second glass he lost track of time and just started drinking out of the bottle, wishing he didn’t burn off the alcohol so quickly. 

  


Eventually, after trying in vain to study while also trying to numb his brain he decides its too quiet.  He turns the music of the Present Mic show on to play in the background, and he wanders back out to the balcony.  Lifting his eyes to the stars that he could see through the clouds and around the buildings, he took another swig of his whiskey and decided he wouldn’t be good company anyway. 

  


It was at that moment that he caught the movement of someone dropping to the other balcony in the alleyway.  ' _ Is someone trying to break in to Yamada’s condo?  Is it just him?'  _  “Yamada, is that you?”

  


The man turns, his face partially in shadow but a flash of yellow at his neck.  Violet eyes meet red eyed gaze briefly, the man’s hair lifting in a halo around his head.  

  


Kenshin releases a stunned exclamation from his lips “Its you?!”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	15. The Boys Are Back Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin is NOT threatened, Talks with Amiko, and is invited out in the company of hot people. What a whirl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Llewtwo belatedly adding my comments to the chapter, lol. So excited to see some of you on discord! I look forward to the whirlwind in store the next few chapters! Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and suggestions!!

**The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 9th, 2286**

**01:10am (0110)**

 

Only a few seconds later and Kenshin finds his partial buzz burning off, as he is wrapped tightly in grey bands that fly across the space between the two balconies, followed quickly by the man himself.  The man’s eyes are sharp, and Kenshin feels his feet lift from the ground as he is pushed against the wall.

 

“Who are you?!  Do you know me? Speak up!”  The man growls. His face is scratched, and there is blood on his clothes and soaking through one of his sleeves. “Did you follow me here?!”

 

“Oro!  I did not follow you! If anything, you’ve been following me!”  

 

The man growls, and Kenshin shifts his arms against the flexible metal-weave capture weapon, trying to figure out if he can break free if this man has lost his mind. “I live here!”  

 

There is a pause, and he feels his feet slowly lower to the ground, and the bands relax.  A sheepish expression briefly crosses a tired face. “Forgive me. I overreacted. I do not remember you though.” 

 

“Are you hurt?  You are bleeding.”  Kenshin grasps the man’s arm without thinking and he tenses again, flinching.  He slowly relaxes as Kenshin examines what was probably a knife wound. “You should get this stitched up. Come, inside.”

 

Kenshin goes inside, putting the whiskey on the counter as he passes, not even looking to see if he is followed.  He comes back into the main room shortly, carrying a first aid kit and a clean glass. The man’s odd weapon was wrapped like a scarf again.  He had come in, and was standing awkwardly near the counter, staring at the radio as it continues playing the Present Mic show.  _ “..Another great hit from our favorite new band, KDA!  This next one goes out to someone near and dear, Give it up  _ Dear Listeners _ for Five Knights and their new song, ‘Sunset with You.’”  _ A drop of blood fell from his finger and hit the stone of the floor, stark against the lightly coloured tile.

 

Kenshin puts the kit next to the whiskey bottle and smiles at his unexpected guest, “Rough night?” He gestures to the bar stool and pours him a tumbler full from the bottle.

 

Scarf man sits and watches him, seemingly confused and obviously unsure. “Are you a doctor or something?”

 

“No.  I’m a teacher.  Just patched a lot of people up in the war. And myself, occasionally.”  Kenshin offers the glass to his stalker,  _ Well, maybe not stalker - the man does not seem to remember me _ , “It will help with the pain while I stitch you up.” 

 

The tired eyed man watches him take a drink from the bottle before sipping from the glass, but submits to Kenshin’s aid. Kenshin washes his hands, and then begins to clean the other man’s injuries.  He hisses a little as Kenshin pulls the sleeve away from where it has stuck to the wound. Working quickly, Kenshin does a passable job of stitching it up before putting on some ointment and bandaging it. “There.  Anywhere else?” He asks the darkly clad man, who is still watching him carefully. 

 

“No.  That was the worst one.”

 

“As you wish, then.”  Kenshin smiles and begins to clean up the mess while making small talk.  “Do you like English music? This is my favorite station here so far.” He ties the bloodied bandages into a bag and puts it in the trash, then goes over to the sink to wash his hands. “I met a man a little bit ago that has his own radio show.  He even lives here in the building, pretty cool huh?”

 

“Ah..yes.  I have met him.” The corner of his mouth twitches subtly like he wants to smile, but falls back into his usual deadpan expression. “Thank you for stitching me up.  It is much easier when you do not need to do it yourself.”

 

“No problem.”  Kensin consider him for a moment, but can’t help but ask.  “You do not remember me at all, do you?”

 

The man shakes his head slightly, scanning him consideringly with black tired eyes. “No.  Have we met?”

 

Kenshin huffs in amusement, “Yes.  But don’t worry about it.”

 

The man stands, downs the rest of the glass of whiskey, and then heads back to the balcony.  He pauses in the doorway, speaking over his shoulder, but not fully turning around. “Thank you again, and sorry for my overreaction.  I wasn’t sure who you were, and I hadn’t remembered anyone living here.”

 

“I understand.” Kenshin replies, but the man was already gone.  

 

_ Is it the same man?  _  Kenshin can’t help but think over all the times they have run into each other, trying to see if there were any differences (besides the lack of blood) between the man he had just aided and the encounters previously.  _ Is it just a family thing?  So many years of memories and they can’t help but blend together in some parts, and blur in others.  Perhaps it was someone different? It isn’t possible to be the same person after all - that would mean that he was also immortal.  But the scarf, and the hair. _ ..Kenshin sighs, and tries to turn his mind to other, less circular and frustrating things. 

* * *

 

 

**Hero Commission West Offices, Yamaguchi Clinic, Tokyo, Japan, August 21st, 2286**

**9:10am (0910)**

 

He had been surprised to hear back from Doctor Hikimoto so quickly, and even more surprised to be allowed to meet him on a Saturday.  Yet, here he found himself using his weekend to meet the Doctor back at the clinic. Evidently, they took turns on weekend shifts, since hero clients were their primary responsibility and they often had odd hours.

 

“I have consulted Dr. Yamaguchi and Recovery Girl, and both seem to think it may be of some benefit from your quirk with Yagi-san’s condition.  We will unfortunately need a significant amount of blood in order to run our tests, so we will be taking a sample today, and another in a weeks time. You must eat enough and drink enough to replenish your blood supply sufficient for the draws.  I’ve written out a suggested diet for you.” He hands Kenshin a list with a smile, his expression excited. “This could mean many good things for many people. Possible breakthroughs in medical science. Thank you for agreeing to these tests.”

 

“You are most welcome.  It is an honor for this one to help others however I may be of service.” Kenshin replied formally, trying to calm his inner nervousness.   _ Damn needles.  _  It always seemed to boil down to that.  And besides. What if this ended up being used for bad things?   _ Who knows what evil could be lurking behind the government clinic? _

 

He is noticeably lightheaded after the blood draw.  Dr. Hikimoto makes him sit and drink some orange juice and eat a cookie before he is allowed to leave.  Another hour later, and he is on his way.  _ Hopefully one step closer to helping Yagi-sama. _

 

On the way to the station his phone buzzes.  He pulls it from his pocket and checks the messages, finding one from Amiko from earlier and a more recent one from Yamada.  

 

**Myōjin the Younger:** Hi!  Mom said I can go out with my friends tonight, so can we please skip this weekend?  I promise I will work extra hard on my own this week!

 

Kenshin replied:

 

**Evergreen:**  I will check with you mid week to check your progress!  Have fun with your friends!

 

He checked the next one.

 

**Radio Head:** Be ready at 7pm tonight!  No getting out of it this time!  I’ll text you the address!

 

Kenshin sighed.  He really didn’t have a valid excuse this time.  

 

**Evergreen:** fine.

 

**Evergreen:** I’ll be there.

 

**Radio Head:** !!!

 

**Radio Head:** (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ

 

**Evergreen:** Why are you like this.

 

* * *

 

 

**The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286**

**6:40pm (1840)**

 

Kenshin arrived home that day, made himself a meal off the list the good doctor had given him, and sat down to wait for the arrival of Yamada and his friends. It would be interesting to go out with someone so...loud. Kenshin would easily admit that if they hadn’t met by pure chance, or perhaps coincidence, he would not have ever made friends with Yamada by himself. It was a good thing, though, that he wouldn’t need to worry about that. Yamada  _ was _ a good friend, if rather loud and enthusiastic.

 

Checking his phone again to make sure he had the time correct, he notices a string of emojis and then a gif of a dog that changes colors.  Yamada and his friends are crazy.

 

The doorbell rings, and before Kenshin can put down his food to go open it, a woman bursts through. She is tall for an asian woman, near 5’9” by Kenshin’s guess. She has long, silky black hair that falls in a strange mix of curls and spike-like straightness; confusing yet entertaining to the eyes. She has on a pair of tight artfully shredded jeans and slightly revealing red blouse that has Keshin looking back to her face with a flush. She has startling blue eyes, mischievous and bright, hidden behind a pair of sensible red glasses.

 

“Oh,” she says after a moment. “You are not Hizashi.”

 

“I..am not.” Kenshin looks around for something else to say and his eyes land on the remaining food in the pot on the stove. “Would you like some katsudon? Yamada-sama will be by later, if you’d like to wait.” Her gaze follows his gesture to the near overflowing pot (he’d made plenty of extra, this time). He had a habit of giving away his lunches to the homeless woman down the street on his way to work. Sometimes, she had him watch her kids when she went to find odd jobs. Nice lady. He was weak for the struggling.  “I am Himura Kenshin.”

 

The woman’s eyes landed back on him and looked him up and down consideringly. “So  _ you’re _ the new friend ‘Zashi was talking about!” She said, grinning. She sauntered over and plopped herself on the stool beside him, leaning close to coyly wink. “We’re going to have lots of fun, you and I,” she said mischievously.

 

Kenshin could see there was no real flirtatious intent behind the words, and grinned back. “I can see we’ll be great friends…?”

 

“Call me Nemuri.” She purred jokingly, and Kenshin laughed. Great friends indeed. 

 

“I suppose you can call me Kenshin?” He had grown out of the discomfort of using his first name in the first 60 years or so in the UK.

 

“So…” she pauses for a couple of bites, “How come I haven’t met you before?” she gestures with her chopsticks, “You aren’t avoiding us are you?  We’re nice people!”

 

Kenshin chuckles, “Ah, just busy?  I’ve been teaching at Musutafu Prep, and my free time has mostly been grading or studying or tutoring.” his thoughts continue on their own, his expression becoming more somber, ‘ _ Well, that and I’ve had trouble making friends for years.  It’s so hard to befriend people only to lose them later.’ _

 

Nemuri wrinkles her nose subtly, not realizing he’s lost in thought, “Sounds awful.”  she smirks to let him know she’s joking. “I’m a teacher as well. But you need to get out!  You don’t want to burn yourself out.”

 

“Oh?  What do you teach?”

 

Her answer is interrupted by a knock on the door.  This person however waits for Kenshin to get up to open it.

 

“Himura!” He is greeted by an enthusiastic Hizashi.  “We are going to have a blast tonight! Hey Nemuri! I see you found him already,”  he flashes Kenshin a bright grin. “Oh, have you met Shouta?”

 

The tired looking man - now looking much cleaner and actually quite handsome when not trying to attack him or bleeding on his floor, follows Hizashi inside. “We have met.” he replies, without much expression. “I am Aizawa Shouta.”

 

“Shouuutaaa...You didn’t tell me you met him already?!  When did you meet?” Yamada drapes himself on Aizawa’s shoulder.  

 

Kenshin is surprised the man doesn’t flinch from how loud the blond is right next to his ear. He closes the door to the hallway and wanders back toward his seat, following them over to Nemuri.  He realizes this is the same man he patched up ( _ and who may or may not be the same man stalking him through time _ ) at about the same time that he realizes that Yamada and the man appear to be friends.  “Oro! Ah...the other night? He was…” Kenshin pauses, briefly wondering if he should be telling people about the dark haired man’s night activities, before he realizes that is stupid and everyone here likely already knows.

 

The man’s dark eyes meet his briefly, some amusement in them although not reaching his voice, “He was kind enough to stitch my shoulder after I attacked him.”

 

Nemuri cackles. “Oh?”

 

“Not like that!”  Aizawa hisses, and Yamada smirks at them both.

 

“That’s what she said.”  Kenshin murmurs without thinking. Then flushes.

 

Nemuri grins at Kenshin like he is her new favorite toy, and shovels some additional katsu into her mouth.

 

“There is katsudon, please help yourselves!” He recovers belatedly.

 

The two men dish themselves some food, and Kenshin provides them all drinks. He realizes, as he pulls his last beer out of the fridge, that he’ll need to get some stronger stuff soon if her doesn’t want to go broke. Yamada, at least, will drink him out of house and home.

 

“You didn’t have to feed us, you know.” Yamada smiles at him as he sits down with them. “When we invite you out you are allowed to just...come out!”  

 

Kenshin flushes again, “I know.  I just - like Katsudon. I do not mind sharing.”

 

“Where is Iida? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Nemuri asks Hizashi.

 

“He’s going to meet us there,” Hizashi explains, “The butthead doesn’t get off work until later.”

 

“But we’ve been planning this forever!” She pouts, “I bet he’s just tired of me trying to set him up.”

 

“Everyone who knows you is tired of you trying to set them up.” Aizawa deadpans. 

 

Kenshin blinks. Should he be more concerned for his safety?

 

“Aizawa, why do you attack me like this?”  Nemuri sniffles dramatically, then turns to Kenshin flashes him a grin. “At least Himura here appreciates me!”

 

Kenshin watches their banter with amusement while they all finish eating, then gathers the dishes and washes them while everyone talks. “You must have all known each other a long time.” He eventually interjects.

 

“We went to Highschool together!” Yamada wraps an arm around both Shouta and Nemuri, both of whom allow it, “For that matter, we still go to Highschool together.”  He grins.

 

Kenshin is a bit lost, but smiles.  “That must have been nice.”

 

Aizawa smirks briefly, glancing sideways at Hizashi, “Depends on the day.”

 

“I am wounded!”  Yamada dramatically clutches his chest and they all laugh. 

 

* * *

 

**Karaoke Dreams, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286**

**8:45pm (2045)**

 

Eventually, they do have to leave Kenshin’s house lest they lose their reserved room. The streets are alive; lights and people everywhere. Had Kenshin not lived in the city for a long while, he would be overwhelmed by the crowds and loud adverts. This part of the city however is even more eye catching than most. They come to a stop before a tacky yellow sign and head inside a slightly shady-looking building between an office and a restaurant. Inside, thankfully, is far cleaner than advertised. The floors are polished marble (likely fake) and the walls are a dark stained wood. There is a small hallway inside the door that opens up to the lobby, where the male receptionist (looking rather like he’s about to fall asleep) sits. To the sides there are two hallways lined with red-doored rooms where people can karaoke with their friends.

 

Kenshin allows himself to be dragged along by Yamada, followed sedately by Nemuri and Aizawa, who cheerfully informs the exhausted receptionist that they have a reservation. He looks through his computer before glancing at Yamada’s ID halfheartedly and pointing them down a hallway with vague directions. Really, he just tells them the room number.

 

Nemuri and Yamada take one look at each other and then dash down the hallway, yelling something about dibs on first song. Aizawa sighs, pulling a yellow sleeping bag from nowhere before following behind. They arrive in a richly appointed room that has much the same color scheme as the rest of the building. There are red leather couches and a circular white coffee table set up facing a full-wall touchscreen with lists of popular songs. Yamada is already scrolling through them white Nemuri looks on for a moment pouting.  She goes over to the table and pulls up the drink menu while Aizawa takes it upon himself to claim the entirety of one of the small couches. Being about six feet tall, however, his legs stick off the end. 

 

Nemuri and Yamada are the most into it, belting pop songs and bad hip hop into the microphone while Kenshin and Aizawa look on in a progressive state of drunkenness. Eventually, Aizawa is convinced to sing a slow, crooning English song from the Jazz craze of the US, and Kenshin is given the microphone and forced to sing a stilted rendition of a KDA song he barely remembers the words to. Nemuri challenges him to a drinking game that involves a shot any time someone mentions love, pain, or sex. Kenshin begins to sense a theme. 

 

Then, about another hour and a full bottle of liquor later, their friend Tensei shows up. He has dark hair and broad shoulders, his face smiling and kind. His square glasses compliment his angular face.  He comes off looking like the classically handsome Japanese man, save for his polo shirt and jeans. His sneakers are old and worn, but he is otherwise perfectly put together. The only oddity perhaps is that he looks exhausted, but seems just as excited as Nemuri is to try and out-rap eachother. Neither of them do very well.  Kenshin ends up finishing the bottle of sake with Yamada’s help, and they order another.

 

Eventually Aizawa is peeled out of his sleeping bag and asked to mediate a sing/drink off between Nemuri and Yamada.  Tensei joins Kenshin on one of the couches and they both watch with a pleasant buzz. “So you must be Himura?” Tensei asks him with a smile.

 

“Oro!” Kenshin blushes, “I forgot to introduce myself!  Yes, I am Himura Kenshin. You are …..Ten-sei?” Kenshin realizes that he has no idea if that is his first name or last - he’s only ever heard him referred to as Tensei.

 

Iida laughs, “Yes, Iida Tensai, pleased to finally meet you.  Yamada said he would be inviting you but you always seem to be busy?”

 

Kenshin blushes again, “Ah, yes.  I am frequently busy teaching or tutoring, or studying..” he trails off.

 

“You’re a teacher too then?  Nice! I work in the family business.” Tensei replies while watching Yamada perfectly execute the lyrics and dance moves to one of the songs. Nemuri jumps in with backups. Somehow they’ve managed to get Aizawa to stay awake while he watches, a soft smile on his face and a drink in his hand.

 

“What does your family do?” Kenshin asks curiously. His semi-alcohol sodden mind isn’t moving too quickly.

 

Tensei turns his dark blue eyes to Kenshin, in the low light they look almost black, and regards him with an incredulous expression for a moment.  “You really don’t know?”

 

Kenshin’s smile falters, “Should I?” ‘ _ Did I say something wrong??’  _

 

A breathless Nemuri takes that moment to collapse across Tensai and Kenshins’ laps, wrapping one arm around Kenshin’s shoulders. “Sing boys!  We  _ are _ here to sing, you know - or do you need me to make you sing?” She adds suggestively with a flash of a grin.

 

Kenshin laughs and shoots back with a teasing grin, ”Not tonight  _ darling _ , work in the morning after all.”  He knows by this point she’s completely shameless and it can’t hurt to play along.

 

Tensei’s face turns bright red and he coughs on his drink while Nemuri laughs.  

 

Shifting herself, she slides her other arm around Tensei’s shoulders so she’s sitting between them both. “Such a tease.  Yamada sure can pick them out.” She squeezes them together.

 

“I can do what now?” Hizashi grins, flopping down on Tensei’s other side. 

 

“Lose to me in a drinking contest of course.” Nemuri smirks.

 

Hizashi however sees immediately through her un-logical ruse, “NOooOOooOO.” He says, deafening all of them. Aizawa tosses a pillow from one of the other couches, which hits him in the side of his head, cutting off his exclamation. He continues, seemingly without noticing, “You are _ Flirting _ with my new friend (the capital F is obvious).  You aren’t allowed to steal anymore of them!”

 

“Whatever do you mean?” Nemuri purrs.

 

“STOLENNN!”  Yamada doesn’t clarify.

 

Tensai laughs, and leaning over Nemuri’s lap, tries to explain over the argument that ensues between Yamada and Nemuri, but Kenshin can’t hear him over the music and argument around him.

 

“Oro!” Kenshin says with a grin to Tensei, “You are all quite entertaining!”

 

Tensei grins back, “Thanks?”

 

Hizashi suddenly pulls Nemuri up from between them, causing Tensei to fall into Kenshin’s lap for a moment.  The two men blink at each other and Tensei pops quickly up, spluttering and red, “Hizashi!!”

 

Kenshin giggles and then pauses, looking at his cup.  _ ‘Perhaps I have had enough to drink.’ _

 

He is obviously mistaken, because it is a full two additional bottles of liquor before he blearily notices the clock on the wall reads 3 in the morning. Aizawa is out.  Yamada is definitely winding down, and Tensei and Nemuri are singing some love ballad together while they finish off of the last bottle. It is to those pleasant background songs that Kenshin drifts out of consciousness. 

 

* * *

 

**The Austerium/ Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 22nd, 2286**

**4:40am (0440)**

 

He is dreaming rather pleasantly of floating down a river in the woods like a swirling leaf.  He can feel the ebb and flow of the water, the changes in current that swirl him about dizzily.  The breeze is cold on his face and he drops suddenly into a lower section of the river when voices start to interrupt his musing.

 

“Don’t drop him!  Here - let me take him.” 

 

He vaguely notices being passed to some well muscled arms and snuggles up to the warmth of whomever it is with a half smile, still obviously dreaming. “Hmm, warm” he mumbles.  His dream giggles. How rude.

 

“Aww, so cute!” another voice interjects.  He has faded back into the river dream, which for some reason has become an oil painting for a while with Henry painting the river he is floating on, when suddenly the voices come up again.

 

“Did you try the door?  Hey buddy, where are your keys?” He feels his shoulder slightly jostled and hears Yamada’s voice. 

 

“s’ not locked.” Kenshin answers, not really awake. 

 

And then he is placed into his nice soft bed, and knows no more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo my lovelies! Popjeckdoom here to bring you the new chapter and our current winner for Comment Competition.
> 
> Current Winner: CannibalisticApple with: "Between this and "oh worm" im starting to be very concerned I may have been right"
> 
> You were not...or were you?
> 
> And Pankcake on Discord wins with: "I am like Kenshin with the Banilla when it comes to the fake syrup"
> 
> Speaking of Discord, come say hi! https://discord.gg/hF69Pmb


	16. Notice the Length of My Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin has a party.
> 
> Kenshin punches a Tensei.
> 
> There was a hot lady in his apartment once.
> 
> Nezu battles Aizawa for Champion Cryptid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LLewtwo back again with another chapter for you! We hope you enjoy!! :) Please let us know what you think or if you have any ideas or just want to chat - you can always join us on our Discord (see end notes.)
> 
> Last Chapter's comment winners:
> 
> On Discord, The-Wraith (who is upshowing everyone): "wait the greens were ocs???? y’all did them Well"
> 
> and on the last chapter:
> 
> HannaVictoria - who has great thoughts about Kenshin's age and official ID, which we integrated into the storyline a bit :D And boy howdy, what a spreadsheet we have to keep track of everyone!

 

**The Austerium, Kenshin’s Apartment, Musutafu, Japan. August 21st, 2286**

**10:22am (1022)**

 

Kenshin goes from asleep to awake almost instantly. 

 

Something is different.

 

He is alone, so that is not it.  The light is much brighter than usual…   

 

He licks his lips, and realizes the awful dry mouth and lingering aftertaste means he must have been drinking.  It has been a long while since he drank enough to sleep this deeply. Sitting up, he sighs at the realization that he is also still wearing the same clothing as the day before.  

 

Stripping out of the alcohol sweat gross clothing he makes his way into the shower.  After a quick soak under the hot water he is feeling much better, and he wraps a towel around his waist before attending to his tangled hair.  Once it is at least brushed and loose, drying, he heads into the kitchen to see about some coffee with it loose over his shoulders. It is only after he has  ground some fresh beans and started the percolator that he hears an appreciative chuckle, “Good Morning to me!” from the couch, “You _ are _ fit aren’t you?”

 

“Oro!” Kenshin turns around, momentarily startled there is someone else in his house and that he didn’t notice, and is faced with Nemuri in a pose that would be more appropriate in french art than on his couch.  He chuckles back, “I’m assuming that we’re still friends, then? I didn’t do anything too silly?”

 

She eyes him consideringly, gaze floating over his many scars, and seems to decide something before sliding back into a more normal relaxed pose, “Not necessarily,” Her eyes are laughing at him, so he has a feeling he has entered a friendship of blackmail. “But, perhaps you should get dressed before the others come back over?”

 

He actually blushes for a moment, “Oro!”  Nemuri’s laughter chases him down the hallway to put on something more appropriate than a towel.  

 

[ https://popjeckdoom.tumblr.com/image/188575415630 ](https://popjeckdoom.tumblr.com/image/188575415630)

When Kenshin re-emerges, Nemuri has helped herself to his cupboards and prepared them both some coffee from the fresh pot. Kenshin thanks her, and takes a few sips before digging into his fridge for eggs, “Do you like English style breakfasts?” He asks, from inside the fridge. “How about french toast?”

 

“Sounds good to me!” she replies, heading to the door, “Make sure you have enough for everyone - I’ll be right back!”  The door closes behind her before Kenshin emerges from the fridge, blinking at the door. He shrugs and begins preparing breakfast, hoping that he knows what “everyone” entails.

 

About 20 minutes later, Nemuri returns, once again walking straight in without knocking. Behind her is a cheery Mic, wearing the pink sweatpants and the black UA tanktop that Kenshin had met him in.  Behind him is Tensei, carrying a yellow sleeping bag with a hungover looking Aizawa peeking out of it. 

 

“This is kidnapping.” Aizawa informs them in a deadpan tone.

 

“Your house is next door.” Tensei reminds him and drops him on the now vacant couch.

 

“I have been moved against my will.” 

 

Tensei wanders over to the counter, glancing back and forth between Kenshin (who has obviously showered) and Nemuri (who has not). “So...sleep well?”

 

Nemuri just smirks and leans on the counter, sipping her coffee. 

 

Kenshin looks up from the stove, not seeing the interaction between them, “Yes.  Quite well. You?”

 

“Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”  Mic peers at Aizawa over the top of the couch, providing his best puppy dog eyes. 

 

The cocoon mumbles.

 

Kenshin serves up the last of the french toast and watches them. There is a pause, and then Aizawa sits up, “Fine.”  He somehow manages to pour himself out of the still zipped sleeping bag, and make it to the breakfast bar in the kitchen.  

 

Mic walks cheerily into the kitchen behind him and pours them both a mug of coffee, emptying the pot.

 

Tensei sighs at the now empty pot, looking pathetic, and Nemuri takes in his expression and laughs at him, “I can make some for you, poor boy.”

 

A short while later, all of them have coffee and a plate of breakfast, although none of them are at the actual table, but rather gathered around the breakfast bar.  Hizashi gestures with his fork at the stack of hero exam materials, “How is your studying going?”

 

“Quite well!  I think I am close to ready to take the exam.  It would be good to take it before my protege does, so that I can be a better guide for her in what to expect.” He laughs, “Also it would be embarrassing if she got a license before me.”

 

“You have a protege?” Tensei asks curiously. “Like an intern?”

 

“Don’t be silly Tensei,” Nemuri speaks up, “he can’t have interns, he’s not a pro hero yet.” Her eyes flick back down to his now covered scars, but she doesn’t say anything.

 

“Internships are not just for Pro-Heros,” Aizawa grumbles - the first words he’s spoken since beginning to drink his coffee, “Many occupations use interns.”

 

“Hmm, what is she your intern for then? You teach, right?” Tensei asks.

 

“She’s not really an intern, just a middle school student.  She asked me to help her train to be a Hero, and I agreed. I am a friend of the family.” Kenshin explains.  “I don’t really know many Pro-Heros, so I am doing the best I can.”

 

They all stare at him for a moment.

 

Hizashi speaks up, “Kenshin-san, we’re all Pro-Heros.  Didn’t you know?”

 

Kenshin blinks, “Even you?  I thought you were a radio host.”

 

Nemuri busts out laughing, “ _ Oh _ , this is priceless.  I thought he was just being polite! This is great!”

 

Aizawa interjects, “Obviously he didn’t know. You call  _ yourself _ a Pro?” There’s laughter behind the words, however, so Nemuri just sticks her tongue out at him.

 

“All of you??” Kenshin repeats.  

 

Aizawa grumbles, “Don’t go telling people.  You do know where we live after all.”

 

“I would never!” Kenshin swears, bowing as formally as he can while sitting at the table, “I am honored to be taken into your confidence and I will keep your secrets as my own.”

 

Tensei snorts out a laugh, “I..don’t -  Just keep being yourself, okay? Most of our identities are on public record anyway.” he says with an open smile, “Aizawa is the only ninja here.”

 

“Ninja, what clan?”  Kenshin takes Tensei’s words at face value and Nemuri cracks up again.

 

“No, I’m an underground hero.  I don’t have a public identity because it would give villians an advantage to know my quirk.” Aizawa explains.

 

Tensei gets up to refill his coffee, and Aizawa’s words sink in to Kenshin’s mind, “Where we live?  Do you all live together then?” He looks at the others in the room.

 

Tensei nearly spits out his coffee. Nemuri laughs again.

 

Aizawa just gives Tensei a look and and then returns his gaze to Kenshin, “I work with very dangerous cases and villains underground.  It would put Hizashi in more danger to have them know we are together.”

 

“Aww, you know I can take care of myself.” The yellow haired man squeezes the dark lump of exhaustion to his side.  Aizawa doesn’t react outwardly; but notably does not pull away.

 

“Ah, Congratulations then!”  Kenshin smiles at them both, “I’m glad you found each other!”

 

Hizashi grins at Nemuri “Pay up!”

 

Aizawa just groans as Nemuri pulls out some bills and hands them over. “Fine, he’s cool.”

 

Tensei watches amusedly, “You bet on his reaction to you two being together?”

 

Hizashi hums ‘We are the Champions’ and Aizawa turns back to Kenshin, who is smiling. “Back on topic. I’m Eraserhead. Hizashi is Present Mic, a radio Host, and a Teacher as well.”

 

Nemuri strikes a pose, “I’m Midnight, the 18+ hero.”

 

“That...makes sense.”  Kenshin flashes a grin at her, which she returns.

 

Tensei joins them again at the counter, “I’m Ingenium. Both of my parents were heros, so I grew up with it.” he adjusts his glasses and grins at Kenshin, “Come up with a good hero name, because you’ll be stuck with it. Do you know what you want it to be, since you plan on taking the test?”

 

“I - have not really thought about it yet.  I will have to consider it further.”

 

Mic jumps in, “OOoooo!  I can come up with a name for you.  I’m great at names!”

 

Aizawa grumbles, “He’s lying.” Mic gives him a look like he’s just kicked a puppy.  Relenting, Aizawa sighs again, “You should choose a name that means something to you.  Just as mine does.”

 

Mic perks up again. 

 

Tensei flashes a glance at Nemuri, and then turns his gaze back to Kenshin, “I can help you train for the exams if you want - both the physical and written exams.”

 

Kenshin blinks at him and then grins happily, “Thank you.  I would like that.”

 

They continue to eat and talk until their plates and mugs are empty, and then Tensei gets up to gather the dishes. When he’s taken them to the sink, a picture Kenshin has hung up catches his eye. “Who are they?” he asks, gesturing to the picture of Kenshin with two foreign Heros. He waves his empty mug for emphasis when Kenshin looks up to see what he’s talking about.

 

Kenshin smiles warmly at the photograph, “Ah, that is Ladybug and Chat Noir.  I met them while I was in Paris. Chat still writes from time to time.”

 

“Are they pro-heros then?”  Iida continues with Nemuri following behind, her hands full of the other dishes.

 

“Not exactly like here, but yes.  They pretty much protect the entire city.”

 

“Wow, it’s like the old days then! Not enough heroes to go around!” Nemuri adds.

 

Aizawa answers for Kenshin, “Japan is particular about their heroes. I believe we are the only place with hero schools besides the U.S.”

 

“PLUS ULTRA,” Hizashi shouts. Tensei throws his mug at the other man and it hits Aizawa’s sleeping bag.

 

Kenshin manages to catch it before it hits the ground, and breathes a sigh of relief. Those were a gift from the Greens. His thoughts momentarily are distracted, wondering how they are doing.

 

“Perhaps not particular enough,” Nemuri teases, not reacting at all to the antics of her friend, “But yes, we’re pretty lucky. Some of our teachers told us First Gen heroes didn’t have anything to prepare them for hero work. Seems horrifying, given what happens to heroes who _ are _ trained.”

 

“Even training can’t prepare you for everything.” Kenshin says, thinking of four wars and many friends lost to a moment of distraction. “But perhaps, with enough older heroes watching their backs, our younger generation won’t need to be prepared for everything when they graduate.” He smiles.

 

“More tea? Coffee?”

 

* * *

**Idaten Hero Agency Offices, Hosu City, Japan.  September 13th, 2286**

**3:28pm (1528)**

 

“Ah, excuse me?” Kenshin, still in his suit after a day of classes, tries to get the attention of the receptionist facing away from him.

 

“Could I help you?”  The young man asks, looking him over.

 

Kenshin pauses briefly, ‘ _ I should have called ahead, I do not even know if Iida is here!’ _ inhaling, he responds, “Ah, I am here to see Iida. Is he in?” The man lifts an eyebrow. Kenshin gets the impression that a lot of people come in to meet the Iida’s.

 

“Which one, and do you have an appointment?”

 

Kenshin flushes, “Oro, ah, Iida Tensei please?  He is not expecting me, but he invited me to stop by.  I am Himura Kenshin.”

 

“I see,” says the young man neutrally, “I will call up and let him know you are here. Please have a seat.”  He gestures to a small sitting area near the elevators.

 

“Thank you.”  Kenshin replies, and wanders over to fidget in the lobby, still standing.

 

It is about twenty minutes later when Iida comes in from outside, in full hero gear, and hurries over to Kenshin, removing his helmet and holding it under his arm. “Himura-san, are you alright?  I was out on patrol, is everything ok?” He looks concerned, the sweat on his brow highlighted by the artificial fixtures.

 

Kenshin flushes guiltily, “I am fine!  I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I was just stopping by since I had some free time, I thought if you were also free, perhaps we could work on studying or sparring? But I see you are busy.” He pauses to appreciate Iida’s costume and quirks a half-smile, “I had not realised I was in the presence of a Knight.”

 

Iida laughs, “Well, if you are going to be a hero, may as well go all the way! Anyway, don’t sweat it. Patrol was finished anyway, so I was glad to hear you were here.  How is studying going so far?”  

 

Following him into the elevator, he tilts his head thoughtfully, “Well...the written test I feel will be no problem.  But I don’t really have anyone I can spar against and not feel like I may hurt them unintentionally. Do you have time to assist?”

 

Iida’s eyes light up, “I haven’t had time for a friendly spar in a while! What styles do you use?”

 

“I’m a swordsman, mostly,” Kenshin waves Iida through the elevator doors as they slide open. The taller man (and were the world fair, Kenshin would not be at eye-level with Tensei’s chest) took the lead again, and soon they were in the room for Hero gear. “I also use a variety of hand-to-hand.”

 

“My specialty,” Tensei grinned. “I’m a close-combat hero. It helps that my engines speed up my punches.”

 

“Ah,” Kenshin’s eyes flit over Iida’s arms, observing that he indeed would be quick, even if he was a rather bulky man. “Well I’ll expect a good fight!”

 

Tensei considers his suit while they ride up the elevator, “Did you bring anything to change into?”

 

Kenshin flushes, “Well, I wasn’t really thinking ahead..”

 

Tensei laughs, “No problem.  I’m sure I have something here that will fit you.”

 

They emerge into a bullpen area with a number of sidekick desks, a few of which are occupied.  Tensei waves and smiles to them as they greet him, and Kenshin can feel curious eyes on him as they go through and over to another elevator on the other side.

 

“Don’t get many guests?” Kenshin asks as the doors close.

 

Smiling, Tensei pushes the button for the top floor before responding, “Oh, well, not many outside other pro heros.  They don’t recognize you, so you’re interesting.”

 

Kenshin snorts, and then pauses for a second when the elevator dings and the doors open.   _ ‘Wow. _ ’  This is one of the best equipped gyms he has ever seen.  He follows Iida through the open part of the space, and into the locker rooms over to one side.  

 

Stepping through yet another doorway, Iida wanders over to a set of shelves, looking over Kenshin consideringly and then pulling a folded shirt and shorts out, handing them over.  “These look like they are close to your size? If they don’t fit, just put these in the hamper and grab some that do.”

 

“Ah...thank you!”  Kenshin flashes him a grin, which Iida returns before striding back past the row of lockers. 

 

“You can claim one of the sidekick lockers for now - It’ll have enough room to hang your suit. I’ll be right back…”  He grins, “Need to peel out of my armor before we get started.”

 

Kenshin nods and turns to the bank of indicated lockers and picks an empty one while Iida leaves the room.  He lays the proffered clothes on the bench and then starts removing and hanging up his suit. It has been a while since he could spar all-out with someone, but he is excited to spar with his new friend.  ‘ _ Hopefully we both remain uninjured _ .’ 

 

It doesn’t take him long to finish changing (the clothes mostly fit) and he wanders back into the gym area to await Tensei’s return.  He notices racks of various types of “dummy” weaponry, along with just about every type of free weight imaginable - some of which seem unrealistically--and perhaps optimistically-- large.  There appears to be some sort of tension system strung along the ceiling, but he isn’t sure what its for. Finally he steps over into the open area, and begins his warm up stretches. Perhaps he should have grabbed a slightly looser shirt, as this one rides up a bit when he fully extends his arms.  Too late now.

 

He can hear someone approaching before he can see them, their steps echoing in the hallway to the locker room.  Tensei steps out with a smile, wearing a better fitting shirt that like his, also reads “Team Idaten” in bold letters. He looks a bit damp around the edges. “Sorry for the wait.  I didn’t want to smell myself while we were getting warmed up!”

 

Kenshin smiles at him from the floor. “I am the one intruding on your time and space, my friend.  I do not mind the wait.” He gestures generally to the gym, “This is impressive, but why the top floor?”

 

Tensei lowers himself to the floor and begins stretches while answering, “Well, it allows instant access outside if there is somewhere we need to get quickly.” He nods over at a distant door to the outside, “And this floor is specially reinforced.  It makes it easier to ensure the safety of those on the lower floors.” 

 

“I would not have thought of that.  I suppose you do have a number of non-combat personnel here also.”

 

Tensei gives him an amused look, “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I guess we do?” He rubs the back of his head and then straightens his glasses before bending into another stretch.  “Only about a quarter of our staff are heros or side-kicks. The rest are all support.”

 

Tensei can’t help but notice the line of skin exposed across Kenshin’s back and stomach when he leans over into a stretch.  He flushes slightly, “Ah, you could have grabbed another shirt.”

 

Kenshin’s cheeks flush, “Oro! Well, I...didn’t realize it was quite this short before I got out here?”

 

Tensei laughs, “Well, at least it’s stretchy.”

 

Finishing up their warm-up, they both do a few laps around the perimeter of the gym before returning to the mat to spar.  

 

“We’ll go slow to start with, so I can see where you might need the most work?”

 

“Sounds good!”

 

They exchange tentative blows.  Tensei testing his opponents speed and strength carefully before slowly changing patterns to get a sense of what he already knows. He starts to speed up a bit, putting a little more force behind the strikes.

 

Kenshin flashes an excited grin and also speeds up, much more quickly and expertly than Iida expected.  

 

It is only five short exchanges later that Tensei finds himself blinking in surprise, ass on the floor.

 

“Oro!”  Kenshin extend a hand to him, looking down. “Are you alright?  I did not expect to catch you with that one.”

 

With a laugh Tensei takes his hand, and is surprised again by the strength of the slight man who easily pulls him to his feet. 

Tensei just stares at him for a moment.

 

Kenshin shifts, “What?”

 

Tensei bursts out with an amazed smile, “Are you sure you need my help?  Seriously, you are much stronger than I expected from your build! Is that part of your quirk?”

 

Kenshin nervously laughs, “Ah, no.  Spar again?” His expression shifts into a more relaxed grin, “You really can go faster.  I will keep up.”

 

Grinning, Tensei steps back to the center of the mat and gets into a ready stance. “Alright then, let’s do this!”

 

* * *

**Dagobah Municipal Beach Park, Musutafu, Japan.  December 8th, 2286**

**4:25pm (1625)**

 

Yagi Toshinori took as deep a breath as his lung would allow, and slowly exhaled, ignoring the ever present aches and enjoying the crisp salty air.  Well, at least the part of the air that didn’t still smell like trash. The sun was beginning to set, and young Midorya’s strength was beginning to flag.  His progress in dragging the large crumpled metal which may have once been a car across the beach had definitely slowed - perhaps it was time for a break.

 

“Young Midoriya! Please come rest a moment and get some water.  Your mother will not forgive me if you collapse.”

 

Young Midoriya does not seem to hear him. As Yagi gets closer to the boy, he hears the familiar muttering take on a petulant tone. “‘Get a Quirk,’ they said,” he moans. “‘It will make your life so much easier!’ they said. ‘You’re a worthy vessel,’ they said.” Midoriya glares at the trash he is pulling along, before kicking it lightly. “‘I am dragging trash across a beach,’ I say.”

 

Yagi laughs, coughing up some blood and startling the young man out of his skin. “Talking to yourself is a sign of madness.” He chuckles. Midoriya blushes bright red, making him look like rhubarb with his green hair. He whips around to look at the hero.

 

“Y-you heard that?” He stutters. “I mean, uh,  _ you’re  _ a sign of madness! Wait.”

 

The boy collapses to the ground in embarrassment.

 

“Not to worry, my boy, It is time for a rest!”  He hands Izuku the bottle of water and they both sit in silence for a while on a patch of cleared sand, watching the waves.

 

“This is going to take me longer than we have, isn’t it, Yagi-san?  I mean…” the boy hesitates, scanning the beach which is still covered in trash from years of illegal dumping.  His face crumples momentarily in frustration, “I am trying my best, but how can I possibly get strong enough in time for testing?  It will take months just to clear this beach!”

 

“Hmm, do you wish to give up my boy?” Toshinori asks his young companion.

 

“NO!  I mean, No.  I just…” he sighs, “I am just tired.  Please forgive me. I will try harder!”  A look of determination crosses his freckled face as he clenches a fist in front of him, accentuating his words.  “I can do this!” He says surely.

 

Yagi just nods, and watches as Midoriya picks the straps back up that connect him to the hunk of twisted metal, and with renewed energy, continues dragging it over to the pile of sorted refuse that the city is clearing (with a little donation from the #1 hero).

 

_ ‘Perhaps I should get the boy some help.  I can always ask for a sidekick, but wouldn’t someone his own age be better motivation for him?’  _

 

Yagi’s black eyes are even darker with his thoughts churning.  ‘ _ Who can I ask?’ _

 

 It was at that moment that Toshinori’s personal phone pings with a message.

 

Digging it out of his pocket curiously, he unlocks the screen, opening the  **Tea Posing😺** chat:

 

**Evergreen:** Greetings, would you two be interested in coming to dinner on Sunday?  Yagi-sama, I have found some foods I think you will like from your list! 

 

The phone dings again with a new message.

 

**Principality** : I would love to but I currently have other plans!  I thank you for the invitation. Perhaps it would be a good time for Yagi to meet your student.

 

**Evergreen:**   Sure!  I will invite her and her mother over also.

 

Yagi blinks and glancing at Midoriya who is now hauling a large box, wonders if this might solve his problem. Only one way to find out…

 

**Here - oh?** : I would be happy to attend!  What time, and is it ok if I invite my student and his Mother also?

 

**Evergreen** : The more the merrier! 

 

Yagi tilts his head at his phone.

 

**Here - oh?** :  Is that a yes?

 

**Evergreen** : Yes! Sorry.  6pm? 

 

**Here - oh?:** See you then my friend!

 

Toshinori Yagi smiles to himself.  He has a friend.

 

“Young Midoriya!” He says, “What are you and your mother doing this Sunday?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Popjeckdoom! Suffering! Because Llew's Keyboard SUCKETH ASS.
> 
> In other new, or not so news, I did an art! You can see it in this chapter or https://popjeckdoom.tumblr.com/image/188575415630 here :D
> 
> Join our Discord! We love talking to you guys! https://discord.gg/ESrpjXG

**Author's Note:**

> This is Popjeckdoom :D. I'm not so new to this, but it's definitely been awhile. We'll try and keep this updating every week, so keep an eye out! 
> 
> And bear with Llewtwo, she's still figuring out her flow ;b
> 
> Hitokiri- Manslayer
> 
> Rurouni- Wandering Samurai/Wanderer
> 
> The -dono honorific is used for Lord's and Lady's, but Kenshin uses it for everyone he holds in high regard. It's very old fashioned.
> 
> "This unworthy one/this one" is used because Kenshin refers to himself as Sessha, which is the direct translation.


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